


Sweet Potatoes

by Obsessionist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 41
Words: 41,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8855626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessionist/pseuds/Obsessionist
Summary: A collection of Destiel one-shots that range from sickly sweet to heartbreaking and everything in between.





	1. Interview

"How did you two meet?"

Cas: “Dean stabbed me.”

 

"What has been your worst fight?"

Dean: “Probably when Cas became God and killed a whole bunch of folk…and then I tried to have Death gank him…Not our finest hour.”

 

"When did you realize you were in love with each other?"

Dean: “I guess it started when Cas betrayed Heaven for me. I began to realize something was off with the way I grieved after the whole Leviathan thing, but I think I accepted it in Purgatory. I was going to tell him once we made it home, but…”

Cas: “I have always loved Dean, I just didn’t know how to recognize the emotion for what it was. Once I became human, though, it was harder to ignore.”

 

"Who initiated the first kiss?"

Dean: “I-well, he-“

Cas: “We were on a hunt, Dean had been knocked out. I thought he required resuscitation, but in the last moment he opened his eyes and we stared at each other… I don’t know who moved first.”

Dean: “It was mutual, I think.”

 

"Who was the first to say ‘I love you’?"

Dean: “Oh, we haven’t, uh-“

Cas: “The depth of our feelings for each other cannot be adequately expressed through such a simple phrase.”

Dean: “Right. Actions speak louder.”

 

"Who is the little spoon?"

Cas: “We are not cutlery of any size.”

Dean: “No, as in- never mind. I am, okay? But just because Castiel’s wings can wrap around the both of us.”

Cas: “Oh, you are referring to our intimate hugs. I enjoy those.”

Dean: “Shut up, Cas.”

 

"Who proposed?"

Cas: “Dean did. He was very romantic.”

Dean: “Dude, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Cas: “Of course. Dean did not take me on a walk through a beautiful flower garden filled with bees, nor did he serenade me with his guitar at a fountain. He did not make a picnic lunch with naturally sourced ingredients. He certainly did not give a very beautiful speech when he went down on one knee, and he did not choose perfect matching rings.”

Dean: *links their hands together so both rings are showing* “You’re still not very good at this whole lying thing.”

Cas: “That’s okay. I already have what I want.”

*Kiss*


	2. Date Night

"You guys should go on a date," Sam suggested one morning.

Busy at the stove cooking a full breakfast, Dean only looked away from the sizzling bacon to shoot his brother a glare – one that clearly said _shut your cakehole or I'll fry your ass._

But Cas looked up from the coffee he was nursing slowly, appearing intrigued. "What purpose would that serve? I am already the Angel of Thursdays, what need have I to be assigned to a specific calendar date as well?"

Dean sniggered.

"That's not what I meant," Sam said. "Although, speaking of calendars, I took the liberty of marking your anniversary in ours."

"What anniversary?" Dean squawked. "We've barely been together for a month, dude! Quit talking like we're getting engaged or some shit like that."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "So what _are_ you doing?"

"We- we're-"

"Dating," Sam supplied helpfully. "Except you two lovebirds haven't actually been out on a proper date yet. So I think it is high time you did."

Castiel's brow furrowed. "What is a 'date'?"

Sam grinned. "It's where couples go out and do couple things."

"Like what?"

"Oh you know… ice skating, picnics in the park, going for ice-cream, eating dinner in a fancy restaurant…"

Dean wrinkled his nose. "What do you take us for, Sam, a couple of romantic saps? Dates are just time-wasters before the good stuff starts."

"Don't knock it til you've tried it. Who knows, Dean, getting out of the bunker to do something other than hunt down monsters and chop their heads off might be nice for a change."

"No, Sam. Just no. It's not our thing."

But when Dean turned to dish the food out onto plates, he faltered at the expression of disappointment on Castiel's face.

_Damn it._ "Cas, uh, there _is_ a movie out I wanted to catch… I suppose we could go see it together? If you wanted?"

Cas turned a questioning eye on Sam. "Does that classify as a 'date'?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, dinner and a movie, it's a classic."

"I never said-" Dean started to protest, but the words died on his lips as Cas beamed and leaned up to kiss him.

"Then it's a date."

Dean smiled helplessly despite himself. "Yeah, I guess so."

'Sap' Sam mouthed at him and Dean glared before dragging Cas into a much more intimate kiss to get revenge.

Sam snatched up his breakfast and retreated quickly before the display could scar him for life. But when he had successfully escaped to the relative safety of the library he couldn't help smirking in triumph.


	3. Undeserving

Dean and Cas stare at each other for a long time. Dean is hoping, praying, that even without his mojo Cas can read his mind. He can't work out what words to say, how to express the way he feels, and he needs Cas to just get it, to see through him like he always has.

But Cas blinks and is the first to turn away.

Dean snags his sleeve. "Cas, wait-"

Cas looks at him, head slightly tilted, a question in his eyes.

Dean nervously runs his fingers through his hair. He has no better idea of what to say now than he had ten seconds ago. All he knows is that he can't watch Cas leave, not again.

"There was a time when I didn't think I deserved to be saved," Dean says, stilted and unsure. "But you saved me anyway. And I have never thought I deserve to be happy, but being with you… it makes me happy. I know I don't deserve to be loved, but do you think that maybe… you could… someday…?" Dean trails off, realising how stupid he sounds. "I'm sorry, never mind, I know you have better places to be…"

"Dean," Cas says. He looks deep into Dean's eyes and Dean can barely breathe. "If you wanted me to stay, all you had to do was ask."

"Stay," Dean blurts, so quickly that he surprises a chuckle out of Cas.

"Okay," Cas agrees.

Dean tugs him a little closer and Cas comes willingly but even so, Dean is uncertain that this is really what the ex-angel wants.

Cas slips a hand behind Dean's neck and closes the distance. "In answer to your question, Dean… I already do."

Distracted by the sight of soft lips, Dean doesn't get it at first. "Hmm, what?"

"I love you."

"Oh." Dean is startled and doesn't know what to say.

Cas kisses him.

They separate after an eternity and all of Dean's nerves have melted away. He smiles, feeling mushy and content. "I love you, too."


	4. Movie Night

*Dean and Cas are snuggled up on the couch watching cowboy movies*

Sam: “Aww, aren’t you two just adorable?”

Dean: *glares* “Shut up, Sam.”

Cas: “Don’t be angry, Dean. I am sure Sam is just glad that you’re happy… Dean?” *smooths his hand over the frown lines on Dean’s forehead. “Are you happy?”

Dean: *melts* “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Cas: *leans in to kiss him*

Sam: “Awwww.”

Dean: “ _Shut up_ , Sam!!” *moves to throw a shoe at him but Cas pulls him into a searing kiss and he drops the shoe to drag Cas closer*

Sam: “Okay, dial down the PDA a little guys, I’m standing right here.”

Cas: *growls* “Then I suggest you relocate elsewhere.”

Dean: *major bedroom eyes* “Oh baby, I get all tingly when you take control like that.”

Sam: *beats a hasty exit*

Dean and Cas: *laugh and go back to watching their movie, snuggled a little closer than before*


	5. Make a Move

"It's got to be you, Castiel," Sam said.

The angel had been standing at Bobby's window, staring out into the car yard for the better part of an hour with hidden longing in his eyes and an almost wistful expression on his face. Sam didn't have to see for himself to know what – or, more accurately, _who_ – Castiel was looking at.

The unwavering gaze of blue eyes shifted reluctantly onto Sam as the angel turned to face him. "What?"

"You're waiting for Dean to make the first move, aren't you?"

For a moment, Castiel looked remarkably like a deer caught in the headlights, startled and panicked and ready to bolt. "I do not know what you-"

"Cas, please." He had to know that there was no point denying it. "I've seen the way you two look at each other, the fleeting touches, the little smiles neither of you can keep in. It wasn't exactly difficult to put two and two together."

"But we're not…"

"Together? Yes, I know." That was the problem, and Sam intended to fix it. "You guys have been dancing around this for months now, and it is obvious – to me at least – that you are both waiting for the other person to be the first one to say or do something about these mutual but as-yet-unacknowledged feelings. If this keeps up, you'll both be living in unhappy denial for a long time. So I'm here to tell you: you have to be the one to do it. Dean won't."

"Why?" Was that a trace of fear in his voice? He was a battle-hardened warrior angel and yet, somehow, the idea of venturing into a relationship was daunting to him. "Dean has never lacked confidence in this aspect of human relations before."

Sam snorted. "You mean he's good at getting into women's pants."

Castiel flushed faintly, averting his eyes from Sam's gaze.

"This isn't about sex," Sam explained, hoping to alleviate some of Castiel's fear. He knew that the angel had no experience with physical intimacy. "It's different with you."

If anything, though, Castiel looked disappointed. "Dean is not attracted to me?"

Sam gave a stuttering laugh. "Ah, I'm fairly sure he is." He had seen his brother not-so-subtly checking Castiel out on more than one occasion, and the two of them had so much eye-sex it was awkward to be in the same room with them sometimes.

"Then why has he not acted upon his urges?"

"Because he likes you, Cas."

The angel's brow furrowed. "I do not understand."

"He cares about you. You are not just some random chick he met at a bar; you two know each other. You have history. You're friends." In other words, Dean couldn't just slip out in the morning and never see him again. If they did this, it would change everything.

"Romantic relationships between humans that are founded upon deep bonds of friendship and respect are said to endure the longest. Our 'history' should be an asset, not a hindrance."

He had done his research. Which meant he had thought about this. It was sweet. "And eventually it will be, I'm sure. But there are a few emotional hurdles that Dean needs to get over first."

"Explain."

Sam blew out a sigh. "I'm sure you know that my brother has some issues."

"Yes." Castiel had been the one to drag Dean from hell and piece him back together; he had to know better than most where the shadows on Dean's soul had come from. "They do not dampen the emotions I feel towards him. On the contrary."

He was surprised to hear Castiel admit his feelings so openly, but it drew a soft smile. "I'm glad. But you need to understand that being with Dean won't be easy. He tries to present himself as a straightforward guy, but beneath the cocky grin, classic rock, love of pie and leather jacket, Dean is very complex."

"I am aware. The process of getting to know Dean has been a long endeavour; on every occasion when I finally believed I knew all there was to know about him, he has proven me wrong by saying or doing something entirely unexpected, and I have been forced to re-evaluate my assessment of him all over again. He is a man of great depth and many layers."

"Right." Sam had known Dean for forever and he was still learning new things about him all the time. "Well, in amongst all that complexity is a child afraid of abandonment." Dean probably wouldn't like it if he knew Sam was discussing his vulnerabilities like this, but it was for his own good. "Our mother died, I left for Stanford, our father took off on his quest to hunt down yellow-eyes and in the end it got him killed..."

"You came back," Castiel said.

"Yes, but when I left I broke something between us." He hadn't meant to. He had needed to get away from his Dad and stop hunting, to live his own life and find something normal, safe. But it had never been about leaving Dean. Dean was the reason he almost stayed. A part of him had hoped that Dean would come with him – his brother had stuck by him through everything, and Sam couldn't imagine Dean letting him go off on his own. Naively, he had thought that by going off to college he would convince Dean to do the same, if only by proxy. But then, Sam was safe at Stanford while Dad was still hunting, still in danger, and the urge to protect his family meant that Dean never really had a choice.

It wasn't until they were reunited two years later that Sam realised that his leaving had torn his brother in two, leaving him wounded and alone. He regretted it, and he was sorry, especially when he could see that, even after all this time, Dean didn't quite trust that he would stick around.

"A part of Dean is still afraid that I'll leave him again."

Castiel tensed, protectiveness flaring in his eyes. "Will you?"

"No. Not while he still needs me." Maybe there would come a day when they were no longer so dangerously co-dependent, and Dean finding a steady relationship could play a significant role in that, but they would always been in each other's lives.

"I won't leave him, either." Castiel said it with conviction, leaving no doubt in Sam's mind that he was making a promise that he intended to keep.

"If you told him that, I think he would believe you." Sam was almost jealous.

"And then we would be together?"

"Well..."

"There is more?"

Sam shrugged helplessly. "You know my brother. He doesn't believe he can ever get what he wants. He doesn't think he deserves a happy ending." Dean probably thought that if he went for it, if he laid his heart on the line and tried to build something with Castiel, his chance to find happiness would be cruelly snatched from him.

"He does not believe that good things do happen."

"Exactly." When all life had ever dealt him was crappy hand after crappy hand, Dean had learned not to expect anything. He believed in what he could see, and didn't know how to hope for something better.

"I will convince him."

If anyone could, it was Castiel. Earning the loyalty, respect and admiration of an angel had already gone a long way to improving Dean's feelings of self-worth.

"If you do, you'll still have to deal with his fear of hurting the people closest to him."

"Dean would not hurt me."

Sam just looked at him, his eyes expressing more than words ever could.

"...not intentionally," Castiel amended. "Not with the desire to cause deep, lasting harm."

"Even so, Dean thinks that the people he cares about get hurt because of him and the life he leads."

"I am an angel. I can take care of myself."

That was definitely an advantage. Dean had the burning need to protect anyone he loved; with someone else he would be trapped between staying by their side to fight off any threats and getting as far away from them as possible to draw the evil away. Hunting and having a home could never work for him, unless the person he was with could hunt too, and not be killed in the process. Castiel's ability and clear determination to protect Dean was an added bonus.

But Sam had to be realistic. "You're not invincible, Cas. He will be terrified of losing you." Dean already was, but if he let his feelings out into the open he would have no chance of hiding or burying his grief if anything happened to his angel.

"And I him," Castiel replied solemnly. "Dean is mortal. I am painfully aware of the fragility of humans, and I know too well that the life of a hunter tends to be shorter than most. But since my feelings can be neither removed nor denied, I find myself needing to make the most of the little time that we do have."

"Carpe diem. I agree with you on that one." It was why he had finally broached this topic with the angel. He wanted his brother and his friend to find happiness and enjoy it for as long as they could. "So really, Cas, I think you should just go for it." The sooner the better. Dean would not reject Castiel's advances; Sam was confident of that much.

"You will not feel uncomfortable?"

Sam waved the suggestion away. "Nah. I came to terms with the idea of you two getting together ages ago. I think I realised that you guys were falling in love way before either of you did. You were driving me a bit crazy with how oblivious you were about how you really felt about each other, but now that it is coming out in the open I am very much relieved. And, don't tell Dean I said this, but I am happy for you both. Just don't do anything – gross – when I'm in the room, and we should be fine."

"I am grateful to have your blessing."

Suddenly struck by an image of walking Dean down the aisle, Sam huffed a laugh. "You make it sound like I am giving him away."

"In a way you are. For all of your life, you have had Dean's undivided attention, love and devotion. Allowing me to enter his life in this manner is a big step for you."

Sam hadn't thought about that. He had always just taken it for granted that he was the most important person in Dean's world. But this felt right. "I think it's time. Dean deserves the chance to think about himself and what he wants for a change. I don't want to come between you."

"You will always be his first priority."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel shook his head. "I do not mind. Dean identifies himself, first and foremost, as your older brother. I would not change that about him. I am satisfied to have as much of him as he will give me."

In that moment, it was clear that Castiel really did know and understand Dean, and loved him for exactly who he was. Sam felt a surge of warmth and gratitude towards the angel. "Dean is lucky to have you."

"I think I am the fortuitous one."

It was exactly the sort of sappy sentiment a truly love-struck person would gush, and it made Sam ridiculously happy to know that someone felt that way about his brother. "Keep thinking that." Wary of rose-coloured glasses, he felt the need to add, "Remember, though, Dean has never really been in a long-term relationship before. The idea may freak him out, and he'll probably make a lot of mistakes. That's why he hasn't made a move yet. It's not that he doesn't want you – he wants you so much that he is scared of screwing it up."

"I have never been in a relationship before, either," Castiel pointed out.

"Well, I guess you guys will just have to work it out together."

"Work what out?" Dean asked, strolling into the room. He was wiping grease from his hands with a rag; Castiel had been watching him work on his car. No wonder he had seemed so entranced earlier.

"Us," Castiel replied, in a voice so low and husky it was practically indecent.

Dean's eyes blew wide with surprise and – oh gods, Sam did _not_ need to see that.

Castiel took one step forward, then another. Dean seemed frozen to the spot. "S-sam? What did you do?"

"Oh, just helped things along a bit. You can thank me later."

Dean swallowed nervously as Castiel advanced. The rag fell limply from his hand, forgotten. His tongue darted across his lips.

"Do you want this?" Castiel asked. Deep. Sultry.

"I-"

But the angel didn't let him get any further than that, closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together.

Dean made a muffled sound, hands flailing in panic for a moment, but then Castiel tilted his head slightly, improving the angle of the kiss and Dean moaned instead, melting into him. Castiel's arms snaked around his waist and Dean's hands slipped into the angel's tousled hair, pulling him in closer.

"Dude, I'm right here!" Sam exclaimed.

They broke apart. Dean was panting, eyes glazed, barely aware of his surroundings.

But Castiel shot Sam a look; one that said, ' _This was your idea'_ and ' _I've waited this long, there is no way I'm stopping now'_. "I suggest you go elsewhere," he growled.

Dean made a keening noise, deep in his throat, and tugged Castiel back in.

Sam bid a hasty retreat, leaving them to it.

But once they were out of eyesight and earshot and Sam decided he wasn't too scarred for life, he grinned to himself.

Mission successful.


	6. Shouldn't

_I shouldn't have this_ , Cas thought.

Dean was curled into his side, snoring softly against his chest. He had a small contented smile on his face, like everything was right with his world. He was happy. They were happy.

_I shouldn't have this._

Even as he ducked his head to inhale the scent of Dean's shampoo and to press a kiss against his hair, Cas couldn't help but feel guilty, like he was taking something that didn't belong to him. Shouldn't belong to him.

What had he ever done to deserve this?

Cas had Fallen. He had lost his faith. He had cursed his absent father. He had turned against his brothers. He had slaughtered hundreds if not thousands, on Earth and in Heaven. He had tried to play God. He had led his followers into disaster. He had wrought chaos. He had destroyed everything.

He had even betrayed Dean. Worse, he had hurt his brother, a sin that should have been unforgivable. He had released the Leviathan, indirectly causing the death of Bobby Singer, the man who had become like a father to Dean. He had abandoned Dean in Purgatory and spurned his attempts to save him. He had allowed Naomi to brainwash him into beating Dean almost to death. He had failed to trust and confide in Dean when it mattered most. He had screwed up, time and again.

Dean should _hate_ him.

Cas couldn't understand how Dean could be here with him in this moment, nestled comfortably in his arms, trusting him, loving him. After everything they had been through, after everything Cas had done, Dean should have kicked him to the curb a long time ago.

It didn't make sense.

The first time Dean kissed him, Cas hadn't reciprocated. He had been frozen in shock, unable to comprehend what was happening.

" _Dude, I know you know how to do this. I saw you kiss the hell out of Meg, remember? Get with the program."_

Dean had kissed him again and Cas had been forced to consider the possibility that he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating.

" _Why?"_ he had blurted.

Dean had just shrugged. _"Life is short, especially for a hunter. I don't want to waste any more time. So can we please stop talking and make out already?"_

Unable to resist, Cas had kissed him back.

But he shouldn't have, because this shouldn't be his life. He shouldn't have a home with the Winchesters. He shouldn't be considered a part of their family. He shouldn't be able to cuddle up with Dean on the couch to watch old Western movies and have the hunter fall asleep in his arms. He shouldn't be allowed to have everything he had ever needed or wanted, personified in one perfectly imperfect man. He shouldn't be happy.

It wasn't right. He didn't deserve this. He deserved to be rejected, cast out and alone. He deserved pain and torment and eternal suffering.

He didn't deserve Dean.

But, God help him, he couldn't walk away. He knew it was selfish, but he wanted this. He wanted this with every fibre of his being and it scared him to death, because he knew that if there was any balance to the universe, Dean should be cruelly snatched from him just as they were learning what it meant to be happy.

He feared that loss more than anything. It would destroy him, utterly and completely, and it would be nothing he did not deserve.

But he clutched Dean closer and closed his eyes against the tears. "Father… if you're out there… please let this slide. Please don't take him away from me. For all that I've done wrong, if I have ever done anything right, please… please let it be enough. Please let me have this. I am begging you."

Silence was his only reply. Cas opened his eyes and stared down at his hunter, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, fervently hoping that Dean wouldn't be killed for his audacity.

Each breath eased the tight knot of fear in his gut.

For now, at least, it seemed the universe was turning a blind eye.

Cas silently vowed to make the most of every moment, because there was no way to know which would be their last.

He bent down and pressed a trembling kiss against Dean's eyelashes.

Sleepily, Dean blinked up at him and a smile spread across his face. "Hey."

"Hello, Dean."

Dean arched up to kiss him, and even though he knew he shouldn't, Cas kissed him back.


	7. Strange

Dean and Cas have been together for a couple of weeks and Sam is beginning to notice that his brother is exhibiting some strange behaviour…

Like singing in the shower.

And baking. A lot.

Hiding Cas’s trench coat in the freezer and pretending to be clueless as Cas searches everywhere for it.

Buying all sorts of weird ties for Cas to wear – the nerdier the better. Cas likes the one with the cats.

Pieing Cas in the face and then licking the cream off him.

Introducing Cas to funny cat videos online and laughing more at Cas laughing than at the cats.

Talking about buying a guniea pig for Cas’s birthday… then making up a birthday for Cas because he doesn’t have one (he chose the date they first met)… and then throwing a party for him… and making him wear a party hat.

Texting with emoticons.

Smiling. Like real genuine smiles that curve his lips and crinkle around his eyes.

Drinking less. Brewing coffee instead, and making tea for Cas who finds it soothing.

Buying an old guitar from a thrift shop and _playing it._ In the library. When he’s not the only one home. Where Sam and Cas can _hear him_.

Collecting records and playing them on the Men of Letter’s old record player. Dancing. Teaching _Cas_ to dance. Cas struggling to get the moves right, so Dean starting to dance like _him_ instead.

Bantering with Sam. Teasing Cas.

Fixing Cas’s clothes. And if they are already perfect, mussing them up a bit.

Being silly and a bit of a doof.

It takes Sam a while but eventually he realises what he is seeing. Dean isn’t just in love. He’s _happy._


	8. Lost

"Cas. Talk to me."

"It's nothing."

"Don't give me that crap. I know you. Something's up."

Cas sighed. "It's just… what is there for me now? Heaven is running smoothly, Hell is under control, the hunter network is stronger than ever, you're free of the Mark and I'm just… here. Not doing much of anything. I have no purpose anymore, no mission. I'm not an angel of the Lord, I don't belong in Heaven… but I'm not human either. I don't seem to belong anywhere. I just feel… lost."

"Dude, are you serious?"

Cas frowned. "Of course I am serious. I do not see any humour in my situation at all."

"No – don't look at me like that, I'm not making fun of you. I just thought that you would have realised by now."

"Realised what?"

"Look, man, I get where you're coming from. I never felt like I fit in anywhere either. Thing is, I didn't and I couldn't if I tried. But it's not about the place. It's about the people."

"I don't follow."

"You don't belong in Heaven, Cas. They're not your family anymore. Sam and I… I know we're not much. We're broken and dysfunctional and a right mess half the time, but if you'll have us…"

"You're saying… I can stay here with you?"

Dean smiled and pulled him into a rough hug. "Yeah, Cas. This is where you belong."


	9. Caught Out

Dean pulls out his phone to do a quick web search to help with the case they're working, and Sam catches a glimpse of his phone background.

"What the hell was that?" he demands.

"Nothing," Dean says, too quickly to be anything other than suspicious.

Sam makes a grab for the phone. Dean dodges him but Sam isn't easily deterred. A wrestling match ensues (never mind the fact that they're on a public street only a few blocks down from the murder scene). Sam gets the phone and holds it up with a triumphant "Aha!" Dean can't reach it and Sam is too fast for him anyway. He opens the home screen and stares in shock. "Oh my god."

"Sam-"

"When? How? When? Dean-!"

"Dude, chill, it's no big deal."

"No big deal?! Dean, YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND."

"We haven't actually put a label on-"

"You - and Cas. You and Cas are actually-"

"Okay, don't flip out on me, I know it's weird but-"

"You and Cas are dating! FINALLY!"

"Just hear me out - wait, what?"

"Took you long enough! Who initiated? Did you ask him out? Did you kiss him? Have you been on an actual date yet? When did all this happen? What-"

"You're... okay with this?"

"Yes, of course I am. You're my brother, I'm happy for you! I want to hear every detail! Okay, well, maybe not *every* detail if you two have already-"  
Dean smirks and waggles his eyebrows.

"Wow, okay, too much information."

"Hey, now wait a minute, you wanted details..."

Sam flings the phone back at Dean and makes a break for it. Dean smiles fondly at the picture of him kissing Cas's cheek while the angel smiles shyly at the camera, before he shoves the phone in a pocket and chases after his brother.


	10. Company on Christmas

Over his lifetime, Dean Winchester had experienced some fairly dismal Christmases.

The first one after his mother had died was spent clutched tightly in his dad's arms as he drank and wept and drank some more until unconsciousness claimed him.

When Dean was 11, his dad didn't make it home from a hunt in time for Christmas. Not only had this led to Sam's discovery that monsters were real and had killed their mom, but Dean had been forced to improvise presents for Sammy and face his brother's disappointment when he saw through the façade.

The Christmas of his sixteenth year, Dean had hunted and killed a werewolf younger than he was.

Sam's sixteenth hadn't been much better – he asked Dad if he could spend Christmas with his girlfriend's family which had led to a massive argument, Sam trying to sneak out, Dad trying to force him to stay and Dean throwing himself into the middle as they almost came to blows. That Christmas had been spent in stone cold silence as Sam and Dad glared at each other over their cups of untouched eggnog.

After Sam left for Stanford, Dean had driven all the way to Silicon Valley to visit him during the holiday but had ended up watching Sam celebrate with his new friends though a window, knowing he was unwelcome.

Oddly enough, last Christmas had been one of the best. In amongst hunting pagan gods and nearly becoming part of a ritual sacrifice, Sam and Dean had managed to celebrate with a sparsely decorated motel room, home-made eggnog, service station gifts and watching the game on a crappy motel television. It was supposed to be Dean's last Christmas and he had spent it with his brother; he couldn't have asked for anything more.

Somehow, December 25th had come around again and Dean was here to witness it. He should have been rotting in Hell, but by a miracle he was topside, living and breathing and (almost) whole. More than ever, this should have been a time for celebration, or at the very least an opportunity for the two brothers to spend time together after being brutally separated for four months (give or take 40 years).

But Dean had woken to an empty hotel room. Sam was gone. He was probably off somewhere with Ruby, doing god knows what, crossing all sorts of lines and earning the wrath of Heaven in the process. The lying and sneaking around bothered Dean more than he let on. But Sam missing Christmas, and not just any Christmas but Dean's first Christmas back from damnation… that hurt.

This day was swiftly earning a place in Dean's list of Worst Christmases Ever. Drinking couldn't fill the emptiness inside him and picking up some random chick at a bar for a one night stand wouldn't ease the crushing loneliness.

Christmas was supposed to be about family. Without Sam there, all Dean could think about was the people he had lost.

He remembered his mother helping him to decorate a huge, real tree in their living room and the way she had lifted him into her arms so he could place the angel ornament on the top. But the memory of her smile was overshadowed by the image of her body bursting into flame and Dean's heart ached with loss.

Dad had taken them camping for Christmas one year and they had made s'mores in the fire. When Dean tried to focus on the happy memories, though, all he could picture was the scene at the hospital where the doctor had pronounced his father dead.

His parents had been taken from him and many of the people who had become like family were gone now, too. Most of the time Dean felt like he had already lost Sam as well, even when his brother was standing right next to him.

What Dean feared most was being left all alone, abandoned by everyone who had ever meant anything to him, and here he was spending Christmas by himself. He hated it.

"Is a little bit of company on Christmas Day really too much to ask?" Dean questioned the empty room, feeling sorry for himself and not caring if talking to no one was a sign of insanity.

He wasn't expecting a response but he was remarkably unsurprised when an angel appeared out of nowhere.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel said.

"Let me guess. Somewhere out there a seal is breaking and your band of feathered friends are too busy to deal with it so you want to send your errand boy instead. Well, it is Christmas day and I'd love to tell ya I've got better things to do, but I don't. So go ahead, beam me up Scotty."

Castiel tilted his head slightly. "My name is not 'Scotty'."

Dean repressed a sigh. Angels had been around for millennia, and they couldn't find all of five minutes to watch a bit of TV? "Never mind. You're here, I'm ready, let's go."

"There are no seals currently at risk."

Damn. Dean needed some action to get his brain out of this funk and fighting some demons over a seal would have done the trick. "Then why are you here?"

Cas stood there silently for a long moment. "I am sorry to intrude." He took half a step back, on the verge of disappearing as suddenly as he had arrived.

"No, wait, it's – it's fine. You don't have to go, unless, you know, ah, you do have to. Go. But don't, if you want to. Stay, I mean. Ahh…" Dean scraped his fingers through his hair, flustered and embarrassed without knowing why.

Castiel, on the other hand, was as stoic as ever. "I can remain for a time."

"Okay, then. Well, pull up a chair," Dean offered.

Castiel blinked and a chair slid over from the window. He lowered himself onto it stiffly.

"Dude, relax," Dean said. He snagged a beer from the cooler box next to him and passed it to the angel. "This isn't a job interview; just a couple of-" friends? Acquaintances? Fellow soldiers? Dean didn't know how to describe them. "-dudes hanging out on Christmas day."

Cas lowered his shoulders slightly and curled his hand around the offered bottle. He didn't make a move to drink it.

"Oh, do you need me to pop the lid for you?"

Cas looked down at the beer and the lid popped off on its own, clinking as it hit the floor.

Dean swallowed. Was he really doing this right now; trying to casually socialise with an Angel of the Lord? This was not how their interactions usually went – Castiel would turn up with advice or a warning or instructions and then he would go, vanishing off to wherever angels went when they weren't bossing around their pet humans. Heaven, probably. This was so far beyond Dean's scope of experience.

"It would seem that you also need to 'relax'," Castiel said. He took a measured sip of his beer, almost as though he was trying to set Dean at ease.

Dean puffed out a small breath of air and deliberately slouched more comfortably in his seat. Fake it til you make it, right?

"So Cas, I would have thought Christmas was a big deal up in Heaven. How come you and the other angels aren't partying?"

"Aside from the fact that we are in the middle of a war and do not have time for such dalliances, the anniversary of the birth of Christ does not coincide with human celebrations. He was actually born-"

"Sometime in the Fall, right?"

"Yes."

"Sammy told me that." Had it only been a year ago? It felt like a lifetime. Sometimes it was a struggle to remember events clearly from before Hell, like his memories had been tortured along with the rest of him. At one point he had barely been able to recall his own name, though Sammy's echoed in his head constantly – first as a reason to keep fighting and then as a shameful reminder that he had given up and he was letting Sammy down. Dean had to assume Castiel had rebuilt his memories as well as his body when he patched him up after dragging him out of Hell because they were all back, aged and dusty but retrievable with a little effort.

"…Dean?"

"Hm?" Dean shook himself out of the reverie. "I'm, sorry, what?"

"Where is your brother?"

Dean shrugged.

"Out with the demon Ruby," Castiel guessed. When Dean didn't deny it he frowned. "I thought I told you to stop these extracurricular activities."

"Yeah, well, Sam doesn't listen to me anymore. When I died I left him all alone. Ruby was there for him when I wasn't and she got inside his head. He trusts her more now. Not much I can do about it."

"Dean-"

"Can we not talk about this? Christmas bums me out enough as it is."

Castiel fell silent.

Dean gulped down half of his beer before the quiet got to him. "Family," he said. "I don't know, man. It is supposed to be this great and wonderful thing, all hugs and happiness and getting along swell, but that's a load of crap. As far as I'm concerned family is pain and secrets and fighting and loss."

"Not always."

"Yeah, well lately the good times feel few and far between. Seems like no matter how hard I try, it just keeps falling apart." Dean had been trying to keep his family together his whole life – first when Mom and Dad were fighting and Dad didn't come home for a few days, then when Dad was so busy hunting that Dean had to step up to look after both him and Sam, then when Dad and Sam started fighting over everything, then when Dad found Sam's acceptance letter from Stanford, then when Dad had gone missing, then when Dad died…he had failed more often than he had succeeded and now every day he felt one step closer to losing was left of his family.

"I know how you feel," Castiel said quietly.

Dean looked up, surprised that the angel could empathise with his situation.

"You do not have a monopoly on dysfunctional families, Dean. You should have seen Heaven on the day Lucifer was cast out. I have never witnessed a battle so ferocious and the worst part was that no one wanted to be fighting at all. Despite everything, we were a family. Michael was furious that Lucifer had betrayed us but he cried when the Cage was sealed. Our Father was broken-hearted and never recovered from the loss of his beloved son. Gabriel couldn't cope with all the fighting and left. Raphael became cold and bitter, distant from everyone. They were the bedrock of our family and it all just fell apart. As a younger brother I was helpless to do anything. And now the fighting has begun anew. My brothers and sisters are dying. Decisions are being made that I don't always agree with and ultimately everything we do is designed to break our family all the more. There is no forgiveness, no efforts for peace, no fixing this. It can only end bloody."

Dean was not sure what to say to that. God and angels and the Devil seemed so far from human that it was hard to imagine that they were actually one big cosmic family, just with planet-sized issues. "I guess both of our families are a bit of a mess, huh?"

Cas took another swallow of his beer. "I guess so."

Dean sighed. "Feels kind of lonely, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does."

This Christmas had gone from dismal to downright depressing, so Dean tried to find a way to lighten the mood. "But hey, at least we've got each other, right? We can start our own little family. You and me, and Sammy when he gets his head on straight. We'll do it right – stick by each other, look out for each other, work through our issues rather than letting them come between us. Hell, maybe if we're lucky we will find a way to be happy."

"I would like that."

Dean smiled a little. "Here's to us, then." He held out his bottle. After a moment spent staring blankly at the outstretched beverage, Cas caught on and chinked their beers together. "Merry Christmas, Cas."

"Merry Christmas, Dean."


	11. Hips Don't Lie

Dean is in the kitchen. Cas stands in the doorway, unnoticed, watching him fondly as he presses pastry into a pan and lays apple slices in perfect concentric circles. His calloused hands have seen more battle and bloodshed than most, but now they are exceedingly gentle as they dust sugar and cinnamon over the top and carefully apply the pastry lid. A small smile curves Castiel’s lips when he notices that the tip of Dean’s tongue is poking out as he concentrates on trimming the excess and patterning the edge. Dean adds a few more finishing touches, then opens the oven door and slips the pie inside. He glances at his watch briefly before he begins to clear away the mess he has made on the kitchen bench. Absently, he begins to hum.

Then something strange happens. Cas frowns, trying to make sense of what he is seeing. Perhaps Dean is suffering from some sort of muscular spasm? Why else would his hips be wiggling like that?

The cloth in Dean’s hands swipes across the counter, moving in time with his hips, and when he has to reach a far corner he does a complicated little side-step with his feet. When the counter is clean he spins around with a flourish- and freezes at the sight of Cas watching him.

“What are you doing?” Cas asks.

Dean flushes a deep red. “Nothing.”

Cas is concerned by the appearance of this additional symptom. “Are you alright?”

“What? Yes, I’m fine.”

“But your hips were-”

Now the tips of Dean’s ears are red too. “I was dancing, okay?”

“Dancing.” Cas is aware of the popular human activity, but he can’t recall ever seeing Dean participate in it. “Why?”

“Because I like – because I thought there was no one around.”

“It is my understanding that humans customarily dance with a partner.”

“Not always. Sometimes they just dance in a group, at a club or a party or whatever.”

“There is no one else here.”

“Well there wasn’t until you turned up.”

“Then should I be dancing with you?”

Dean just stares at him, mouth parted, apparently at a loss for words.

“If it is a human custom I don’t mind joining you. Only, I don’t know how to dance.”

Dean recovers his voice. “You’ve never danced before?”

Cas shook his head.

Dean ponders this for a moment, then determination settles over his features. “Okay, we have _got_ to fix that. Hang on a second.” He moves over to the radio and switches stations until he finds a song that he likes. “Okay, so the first thing you have to do is work out the beat. This one is pretty simple. 1, 2, 3, 4. Can you hear it?”

“1, 2, 3, 4,” Cas repeats.

“Good. Now you just move your body to the music. Like this.” He starts doing the hip thing again and Cas tries to copy him.

Dean bites his lip to keep from laughing but his eyes are brimming with mirth. “To the beat. Left, right, left, right. 1, 2, 3, 4. Then you try to get your body into it as well…”

Cas is trying but his body won’t cooperate and he feels ridiculous. “It isn’t working.”

Dean steps forward and places his hands on Castiel’s hips. “Here. Left, right…”

Cas tries to concentrate but the pressure of Dean’s hands is burning his skin and his mouth feels dry.

“You have to move with me, dude.” Dean steps closer still. “Put your hands on my hips so you can feel the rhythm.”

Castiel’s touch is hesitant, feather-light, but he finds he has to hold on tighter to stop Dean’s hips from escaping him.

“That’s better.” Dean smiles encouragingly and his green eyes – so _close­_ – are sparkling. “Move your shoulders a little and the rest of your torso will follow. See?”

Cas is running his gaze up and down Dean’s body, trying to mirror his movements, but the jut of his hip bones and the way his t-shirt pulls tight across his chest and the line of his throat and the curve of his lips are very distracting.

“Stop over-thinking it, you’re doing great. Now we just need to add in some footwork. Step to the side, feet together, step back, feet together. Yeah, just like – ow!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Dean chuckles. “It’s fine. Try again. Better. There we go!”

Cas smiles hesitantly.

In the background the song ends and a slower one begins to play.

Dean swallows and Castiel’s eyes track the bob of his throat. “Uh, Cas?” Dean says hoarsely.

Castiel’s gaze flicks up to meet his eyes. “What is it?”

“We – uh – we stopped dancing.”

Cas nods and his gaze drops to Dean’s lips. “Is that okay?” he asks.

“Y-yeah…”

Cas steps forward, closing the small distance between them and leaning in. “Is this okay?”

Dean is looking at Castiel’s mouth now too, and unconsciously he licks his lips. He nods.

So Cas kisses him.

“What are you doing?” Sam yelps from the doorway.

Dean and Cas spring apart.

“We weren’t kissing,” Dean lies. “We were, uh-”

“Dancing,” Cas supplies helpfully.

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and Dean slaps a hand against his forehead.

“What?” Cas asks. “Is that not something that people do?”

Sam has a huge grin on his face. “Yes, yes it is. Well, I’ll just let you two lovebirds get back to it.”

“ _Sam_ -!”

But Sam has already vanished into the corridor, his laughter echoing back to them.

Dean’s face is a deep red again and he won’t meet Castiel’s eyes.

“Dean, I think I need more practice.”

“At dancing? Or-”

“Yes.”

Dean hesitates, so Cas takes firm hold of his hips and pulls him in again. Dean offers no protest when Cas presses their lips together, and when the music begins to play again they are perfectly in sync.


	12. Winter Warmth

As an angel, Cas didn't feel the cold. His body temperature remained constant regardless of what the weather was doing. But on one winter's day as snow was gently falling, Cas realised (again) that humans were different. He was concerned by the way that Dean was briskly rubbing his hands together, stamping his feet and trying to duck his head into the collar of his jacket. The tips of his ears and nose were bright red, and he was shivering.

 

Cas considered making the suggestion that Dean head home and leave the rest of the hunt to him, but he knew that Dean wouldn't go for it. It was a simple case, just a waiting game really - sometime after nightfall the monster would emerge from the woods in search of some human organs to eat, they would shoot a silver-tipped crossbow through its heart and that would be that. Cas could easily handle it on his own, but he knew Dean didn't like to leave things half-finished.

 

So instead he offered, "Coffee?"

 

"Thanks," Dean said, not taking his eyes off the treeline.

 

Cas left in a flurry of wings. He knew Dean's coffee order by now, but he intended to pick up some other supplies first.

 

He ducked into a likely-looking store and browsed the shelves until he found what he needed. He selected some items and brought them up to the counter.

 

The cashier smiled at his choices. "It's a cold one tonight, isn't it?"

 

"Yes," Cas agreed, though he himself couldn't feel it. He had learned that to say such things would only draw unwanted attention to his otherness.

 

She rung through the scarf and gloves, and then her eyes lit up as she saw the woolen hat. "Oh, it's so cute!" she exclaimed. "I love the pom-pom on top."

 

Cas smiled hesitantly. He wasn't sure what Dean would think of the moose-and-squirrel pattern woven into the hat, but the only other options were bright pink and fluro green. The girl seemed to approve at least.

 

He accepted the bag from her but plucked the hat out again, suddenly curious. "You call this a pom-pom?" he asked, touching the round ball of fluff that was perched on top of the hat.

 

"Yes."

"Pom-pom," he repeated thoughtfully. He liked it. "Thank you."

 

He picked up the coffee and flew back to where Dean was waiting.

 

Dean curled his hands around the cup Cas offered and took a grateful sip, sighing with relief as the warm liquid began to heat him from the inside out. "Thanks, Cas. You were gone a while, everything alright?"

 

Cas nodded. "I noticed that you were cold, so I picked up a few things." He handed over the gloves and scarf.

 

"I'm fine, you didn't have to..." But his protest faded at the hopeful expression on the angel's face. "Ah, thanks." He pulled the gloves on and wound the scarf around his neck. "That does feel better," he admitted.

 

"There's something else." Cas pulled out the hat and shyly held it out.

 

"Cas, there is no way I'm going to-"

 

"You lose more heat from your head than any other part of your body, Dean."

 

"But - Cas - c'mon, man, I mean - it has a pom-pom on it."

 

Cas was excited to hear his newly-learned word in use. "Yes, I know! The girl at the shop said it was cute."

 

Dean stared at him for a long moment, then muttered something under his breath. He snatched the hat. "Fine." He crammed it onto his head. "Happy?"

 

Cas smiled. "Very."

 

Now it was Dean's cheeks turning red, but Cas just took that to mean that his mission to warm him up was working. He reached out and flicked the pom-pom with a finger. "Pom-pom," he said happily.

And so it was that a bad-ass hunter shot down a monster with one bolt from a well-aimed crossbow, while bundled up in a scarf, gloves and beanie with a pom-pom on top.

 

From then on, whenever the thermometer dipped below fifty Cas insisted that Dean wear the hat. And though he grumbled every time, Dean did. 

 

He would never admit it, but it was worth Sam's snickers and the odd looks he got from strangers for the moments when Cas would flick the pom-pom to make it bobble and smile that adorable little happy smile. Forget the pom-pom - Cas was just too damn cute.


	13. I Can't

"Dammit, Cas, I said no."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel exactly the same way I do. Look me in the eyes and tell me we're just friends. Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven't wanted this since the day we met. Look me in the eyes, Dean Winchester, and tell me you don't love me."

Dean lifted his gaze to look directly into Castiel's eyes, and said nothing.

"Then why can't we try?"

"Because."

"I have a right to know, Dean."

"What do you want from me, Cas? You want to go around holding hands and sharing ice-creams? You want to snuggle with me in crappy motel beds every night? You want to find a nice house with a white picket fence and settle down? You want to adopt 2.5 kids and get a dog and grow old together? Because you know that is never going to be my life."

"All I want is you, Dean. I don't need anything else."

"Look, man, I'm doing you a favour. You don't want to get into this with me. I'm scarred and broken and I drink too much and-"

"I don't care. There is nothing you could say about yourself right now that could change the way I feel about you. I saw you at your lowest point, Dean – I saw you when you were torturing souls in Hell – and I loved you even then."

"Stop using that word. You don't love me."

"Yes, I do."

"Well you shouldn't! You could have anyone you wanted, Cas. Go out there and find a pretty girl with a cute smile and innocent blue eyes who doesn't have any issues or blood on her hands, who loves life and kittens and would treat you right. You deserve to be with someone who can make you happy."

"You could."

"No, Cas. My answer is no. Leave it alone."

"I am _not_ going to leave this alone, Dean! I fought through an army of demons to rescue you from Hell, I fought monsters and brothers to save your life, and I fought by your side against every adversary. If there is anything I have learned it is that _you,_ Dean Winchester, are worth fighting for."

"Stop it! Stop talking like that. You're making this harder. I'm sorry, but I can't love you, Cas. I just can't."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a Winchester! Because if I let myself love with you you'll die some painful horrible death and I will lose you forever. I saw how Mom reacted when Dad died. I saw what my Mom's death turned Dad into. I saw what Jessica's death did to Sam. I am the _least_ of them and if they couldn't cope with losing their soul mates I don't stand a chance! If I let myself love you it will _break me_ , Cas. I can't do it. I can't lose you. I _can't_."

"Lying to yourself won't change how you feel, Dean. I can't promise that nothing bad will ever happen to me, but when I go I don't want to have any regrets. For example… I know I would regret not kissing you now."

Cautiously, wary of scaring Dean away, Cas leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Dean's. He could taste the saline of his tears, and knew Dean was battling against fear, heartbreak and the belief that good things could never happen to him. Dean didn't think he deserved to be happy. Dean didn't think he deserved to be saved.

Right from the start, Cas had made it his mission to prove Dean wrong.

Pulling back just slightly, Cas whispered, "This moment right here, right now, is worth more to me than one thousand lifetimes. And if it was a choice between living forever, or dying tomorrow knowing that I was loved by you, I would choose you, Dean. Always you."

Dean didn't reply. His eyes were closed, his whole body was trembling, his breaths stuttered unevenly, and silent tears were falling like rain.

Castiel's heart broke. Gently, so gently, he drew Dean into his arms. "I love you, Dean."

Dean's reply was barely a whisper. "I – I love you, too, Cas."

Dean broke down, and Cas held him as he cried. It was an early outpouring of grief for a time when Cas might not be there to comfort him, and somehow it helped Dean to be at peace with the uncertainty of their future. In a way it was goodbye, but neither of them had any intention of leaving. Til death do us part.

When Dean regained his composure he shifted so he could gaze into Castiel's eyes. A small smile curved his lips. "I think I would regret not kissing you now."


	14. Different

"You are not like other hunters."

It was a testament to the sheer number of times the angel had turned up unannounced that Dean did not even flinch when Castiel's reflection suddenly appeared his bathroom mirror.

"You know, Cas, most people start conversations with 'Hello'."

The angel regarded him seriously for a moment. Then he vanished.

Dean blinked in surprise. Normally his visits lasted longer than just a few seconds, but then, Castiel's grasp on what was normal was tenuous at best.

Dean shrugged and continued shaving, only for the angel to reappear moments later.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean smirked. The angel might be clueless about human behaviour, but he tried very hard to learn. "Hello, Cas. How are you?"

Most people would have said 'fine' or 'good'.

"I am intrigued by the differences I have observed between you and other hunters," Cas said. "I would like to discuss it with you."

Apparently angels didn't do the whole small talk thing. They'd work on it later.

Dean washed the last of the shaving cream off his face and turned to meet Castiel's intense gaze. He used to find it disconcerting to be subject to such scrutiny, but now it was simply par for the course.

He leaned back against the sink, casually folding his arms across his chest and settling in for what already promised to be a strange conversation. "Okay, shoot."

Cas frowned a little. "I do not carry firearms. And I would not wish to discharge a weapon at you."

"Well that's good to know. But I meant that you can go ahead and say what's on your mind."

"Oh."

"So I'm different from other hunters, huh?" Dean prompted. He flashed a grin. "Better-looking, right?"

"God created all men in his image."

Dean sighed. He should know by now that the angel did not respond to humour. "What is it, then? I screw up more often?"

"That is untrue. You are the most effective hunter alive today. And I think I know why."

"A lifetime of training?" Dean asked dryly. When most boys had been learning to ride a bike and play soccer, Dean's father had taught him 101 ways to hunt and kill monsters. It had been his life since he was four years old.

Castiel shook his head. "No, that's not it. I believe that your motivation for hunting is what sets you apart."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Cas, every hunter has a tragic story in their past. I haven't met a single one who didn't lose someone they cared about to supernatural causes. My mom's death doesn't make me unique..." _It just makes me another victim,_ he finished silently. _And with dad gone, it makes me an orphan._

"Why do you fight evil, Dean?"

He thought it was obvious. "Because evil killed my mom."

"But you don't do this for revenge."

Dean shrugged. "Well, maybe not anymore. I mean, the yellow-eyed demon is dead now."

"But hunting for your mother's killer was always John Winchester's crusade. The night he watched her burn, his heart was filled with hate. Seeking vengeance was all he cared about."

He knew it was true. He had experienced his father's obsession first hand. He had never been the same after his wife's death; he had become harder, colder, angrier, ruthless. "What's your point?" Dean asked hoarsely.

"Every other hunter I have researched or encountered has been like John. Evil killed their loved ones and they became hunters to gain retribution. Every single one has been motivated by hatred. Even Sam. But you're different."

"You don't think I wanted revenge on the son of a bitch that murdered my mother?" Was the angel trying to imply that Dean didn't love his mom as much as his father had, or as much as Sam had loved Jessica?

"Of course you did," Cas said calmly. "But what was more important to you? Finding and killing Azazel, or protecting your family?"

Dean was silent, but he knew the answer. Sam and his dad came first, every time. No question.

Cas took a step closer, his blue eyes more intense than ever. "You, Dean, are not motivated by hate. You're motivated by love."

And right at that moment, Dean decided this conversation was making him far too uncomfortable. "Oo-kay, that's enough of this chick-flick crap." He squeezed around Cas and escaped the tiny bathroom, but Cas followed him out into the motel room.

"It's what makes you different, Dean. It's what makes you stronger."

"Stronger?" Dean huffed a laugh. "I'm not strong, Cas."

"A person driven by hate will eventually be consumed by it. Hatred is born of darkness; it divides and it destroys. But love… love is the most powerful force in the universe. It builds, it enlightens, it brings people together, it creates, it heals, it forgives-"

"And it hurts like a son of a bitch."

Cas was making love sound like some beautiful thing made up of hugs and rainbows and puppies, but the truth was that love left you wide open for heartbreak. After all, the people Dean loved were the ones who had caused him the most pain.

His mother's murder had destroyed Dean's innocence. Watching Sam and their father fight all the time had torn Dean into pieces. Sam leaving him for Stanford had ripped the ground out from underneath him. His father vanishing without a word had made Dean feel abandoned and inadequate. His father's death had shaken his world and left him reeling.

Sam's death… there were no words. None.

But Sam's betrayal…

"Isn't there a saying among humans? It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?"

"That's bull crap."

Cas looked away. "I wouldn't know. Angels are loyal to our Father, and obedient to His commands. But emotions are discouraged." His eyes flicked to Dean. They looked empty. Or maybe… sad. "I have never loved."

Dean's heart gave a painful twinge. This whole conversation had felt like Castiel was laying his soul bare, reading him like no one else could, but maybe this wasn't about Dean after all.

"You said I wasn't like other hunters," Dean said quietly. "Well, Cas, I hate to break it to you, but I don't think you are like other angels."

A frown creased Castiel's forehead. "What are you saying?"

"Maybe you were an emotionless robot once, but you're changing, Cas. I can tell. I've seen you afraid, angry, relieved, hopeful… Maybe you don't show it as clearly as humans, but you do feel. I know you do."

Something changed in Castiel's expression. There was a glimmer, a spark, of some undefinable emotion that hadn't been there before. "So you think that someday I could learn to love?"

Pinned by blue eyes – which, Dean realised, could only convey such intensity if there were a powerful storm of emotions raging behind them – Dean could only swallow nervously, and nod.

"The love you have for your family, for people, for this world… it shines brighter in you than in any other human I have ever met. You know what it is to feel love, but more than that, you know how to harness it and make it the driving force behind everything that you do."

Cas moved closer, into his space. Dean could hardly breathe.

"I want you to teach me."


	15. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after 10x16

The long drive back to the bunker was quiet and subdued. There were unspoken words hanging between them but, even though he knew Sam was willing to listen, Dean just wasn't ready to talk.

He had expressed some of what he was feeling to the priest at confessional and it had felt safe, secret. He hadn't had to face the man and he had known that his words would not leave that church. With the poor man dead and the eavesdropping ghost dealt with, no one would ever know what he had said in there.

Dean knew. Saying it out loud had forced him to admit to himself that he wasn't okay, and it was hard to go back to pretending. But even if he wanted something different for his life, he knew where this was going. He was going to die, and what he had hoped would someday be was never going to happen. There was no point in dwelling on it. The dull ache in his heart would have to be ignored.

He tried to convince himself that his feelings on the matter had been left behind at the church, and with each passing mile he regained control over his emotions. This was why he couldn't tell Sam. Sam would ask questions, delve deeper, try to help, try to make him believe that he could and should be happy. He would only make all of this harder in the end.

Dean had no illusions. The life of a hunter was short and bloody. When he had accepted the Mark he had signed his own death warrant and since it had allowed him to rid the world of Abbadon he couldn't regret his decision. He didn't want to die, but he had long since learned that what he wanted didn't matter. As a child he had wanted his mother back. He had wanted to stop moving around. He had wanted to find acceptance and friendship at school. He had wanted his dad and his brother to stop fighting. But he never got anything that he wanted, and he learned to focus on different things – namely, saving people and killing monsters.

He never ever let himself admit that he wanted a family. Sam was his family and that was good enough for him.

If it hurt to see couples hand in hand, or children with their parents, he never let on. That wasn't his life. He hunted so that normal people could live their lives happy and carefree; it wasn't an option for him. He dared to dream that someday Sammy could have that normal, apple pie life, but he never dreamed it for himself. Good thing too, because this was it for him. He was dying. Whether the Mark killed him because his human body couldn't handle it, or because he hulked out again and someone had to gank him before he hurt anyone else, there was no coming back from this. There was no cure.

No hope. No future.

He was at peace with that. Or at least he had come to accept it.

He was fine. Really.

Sam wasn't going to press the issue. When they got back to the bunker Dean would be able to hide in his room and blast music through his headphones and drown in booze until the pangs in his chest couldn't be felt anymore.

When they pulled up to the bunker, though, all of Dean's plans were blown out of the window.

Cas was there. His Lincoln was parked out front and he was leaning against the bonnet, as though he had been there a while.

"Hey, Cas," Sam greeted, pulling his lanky frame out of the car and closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked.

"I came to check in with you."

Dean pulled the key to the bunker out of his pocket, walking past the angel to head inside. "Could have just called. Or texted."

"It has been a month since I last saw you."

"Yeah, well, we've been busy."

Sam shot his brother a look that said _What the hell is going on with you?_ "Sorry, Cas, long day. It's good to see you."

Dean knew he was being cold and standoffish. It was unfair, but he had his reasons and he wasn't about to explain. "Well, as you can see we're good. So if you've got somewhere to be…"

"May I come in?" Cas asked.

Dean shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm gonna hit the shower."

He left Sam and Cas staring after him and shut himself in the bathroom. Stepping into the hot spray, he forced himself to close his eyes and breathe deeply.

He really didn't need this right now. It was only going to make everything harder.

He took his time, hoping Cas would be gone by the time he ventured out. Instead, he found Cas sitting on the edge of his bed waiting for him.

"Dude, ever heard of privacy?"

"Yes."

"Well, this is my room and I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

"Not yet," Cas said.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Since when do you dictate what I do?"

"You need to talk to me, Dean."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Did Sam put you up to this?"

"No."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"You called me."

"What? No I didn't."

"Perhaps not intentionally, but I heard you from miles away. I couldn't pin point your location so I came here to await your return."

"Well sorry to say you've wasted a trip. I didn't call you."

"Angels don't just hear prayers. We can pick up on other things… you wanted to call me, I could sense it. And you want me here still, despite your words and body language telling me to go."

"Your spidy sense is broken."

"I don't think so. And I'm not leaving until you tell me what happened on this hunt."

"Nothing. It was a simple ghost hunt."

"So the intense emotions you were feeling earlier were not connected to the hunt. What caused them, then?"

"Nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Dean. Sam said you went to confession and you took longer than he expected considering you were just supposed to be setting yourself up as bait for the ghost."

"That is none of his business. Or yours for that matter."

"You've never spoken to a priest before. Since I pulled you from perdition, your spiritual questions and emotional needs have usually been expressed to me. But I haven't heard your prayers recently."

Dean twitched irritably. "Not like you ever listened."

"I remember every word. I didn't always respond when you wanted me to but I always listened, Dean. And I would hope by now that you trust in our friendship enough to feel like you can be open with me – in person."

"It was nothing. Stupid, really. Just a moment of weakness. I was feeling a bit down, you know, with the mark and all. But the moment passed and I'm fine now."

Cas looked at him in that disconcerting way he always had, as though he was staring straight through Dean into his soul. "The emotions you felt in that confessional haven't stopped, Dean. You may have tried to wall them off, but if anything they have been growing stronger since I've been talking to you. Please, Dean. I can feel that you are hurting and I want to help."

"There's nothing you can do. It's my crap, I have to deal."

"You're not alone, Dean. You have Sam and you have me. We're here for you, you just have to let us in."

"I can't. It will only make things worse."

"Dean." Cas stood and moved into his personal space. He met Dean's gaze and wouldn't let him look away. "Talk to me."

"Fine. No one has said anything, but we're all thinking it; this mark isn't coming off. Which either means it'll kill me slow and painful, or I'll go dark and you'll have to kill me. I'm a dead man and we all know it."

"There's more. You're frightened."

"Fear of death is one of those instinctual things that is hard to shake."

"You don't want to die."

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't matter what I want. I'm dying and that's all there is to it."

"You have been close to death before, but it has never bothered you in this way."

"Dude, would you stop with the angel vibes? You can't just use your mojo to read everything I'm thinking."

"I don't have to. I know you well enough by now."

That was bullcrap.

Cas had taken one look at him in that barn all those years ago and just _known._ He had always been able to read Dean better than anyone else.

"What was all that stuff you were spouting about 'sensing' my emotions, then?"

"I can't sense all of them. But your longing came through loud and clear."

"L-longing?" Dean sputtered.

"Yes. I can feel it even now. I don't think any other angel has ever discovered this ability to pick up on more than just prayers, but then no other angel has developed such a profound bond with a human before."

Dean flushed. "You can't go around talking about 'profound bonds'. People will think that you… we… well, you know."

"Feel more for each other than we let on?"

Dean stared at Cas in shock.

"Admittedly, it took me a long time to realise. I couldn't work out what these strange sensations were that kept pulsing across the prayer line when no words were being spoken. But in Purgatory I could feel it all the time and when you came for me, when you refused to leave me behind even when I was endangering you… I knew."

Dean swallowed nervously.

"But I also knew that it couldn't be, at least not then. I was not in a good place emotionally, and then Naomi messed with my head and you were angry with me and Sam was in trouble… everything got pushed to the side. What I could sense from you didn't line up with your actions – I had never felt your longing stronger than when you kicked me out of the bunker, but you never asked me to return. It was obvious that other things were more important."

"Cas-"

"I know what happened, you don't have to explain. I'm just saying… I know. And if you're honest with yourself, you know too. You let yourself admit it, at least partially, in that church and I can tell that you are struggling to bury the feelings that you dredged up. I am here to let you know that you don't have to. You can if you want, of course, but if you ever decide you want something more than this life you have been living, more than the fighting and destruction and fear and death, then all you have to do is ask."

"You don't understand," Dean croaked. "It doesn't matter what I want. It is too late."

"It's never too late."

"I'm dying."

"We will find a way to save you."

"It can't be done."

"I raised you from Hell. I have saved your life more times than I can count and I helped you to defeat Lucifer. I am not about to stand by and let his mark destroy you. My Fallen brother _cannot_ have you, do you understand? You are _mine._ And I _will_ save you, as I always have."

He spoke so passionately and he sounded so sure, Dean almost wanted to believe him.

Cas took a calming breath. "The question is, what will you do then?"

"You want me to try to picture a life where I don't die bloody?"

"Yes. Try, Dean."

Dean's brow wrinkled. He'd had a half-formed image in his mind once of what happiness might look like. It involved Lisa and Ben and a white picket fence and a normal 9 to 5 job. But he had tried that and it hadn't ended well. He didn't think he could try for something like that again.

_There's people, feelings, that I want to experience differently than I have before. Maybe even for the first time._

Who was he kidding? He knew what he wanted.

He knew who he wanted.

"If I don't die in the immediate future," Dean said, "then I think I might want to… I'd like to… maybe try to go somewhere with this." He gestured helplessly between them, feeling awkward and unsure. "With us."

It would be weird and new and different, and possibly even totally insane.

He was crazy for considering this.

But after so many years of holding back, of denying himself what he wanted, of ignoring his feelings and trying to live every day with no hope to hold onto… He couldn't do it anymore.

Cas was here, and he was patient and gentle and understanding, and he would wait for him. He had been waiting for him.

"Even if you can't save me," Dean whispered. "I don't think I want to wait any longer."

His gaze flicked to his angel's lips. He wondered what they tasted like, had wondered that often and nearly even asked Meg. He never thought he would ever have the chance to find out for himself.

But Cas ran his tongue over his bottom lip and Dean was entranced, unconsciously mirroring the action. Cas cupped his face with his hand and raised his chin to draw Dean's eyes back to meet his. They smouldered with want. He leaned in closer so that there was barely an inch between them and their breath mingled.

Dean could die tomorrow, or he could live for another fifty years. Either way, he wanted this. He wanted Cas.

"You have me," Cas murmured. "Always, Dean."

Dean kissed him.

And for a moment, just a moment, he let himself believe.


	16. Style

“Come on, Cas, we’ll try in here first.”

Cas glanced into the store, feeling uncertain. “Do they sell suits here?”

Dean snorted. “No, dude, if you're going to be a hunter you can't go around wearing suits and dress shoes all the time.”

“What am I supposed to wear? Plaid?”

Dean made a strange, choked sound. “N-no. No. I mean, you can if you want, but it’d be better for you to come up with your own style. You’ve been rocking Jimmy Novak’s outfits for a while now and don’t get me wrong, it was definitely working for you, but it’s time to try something new.”

Cas had zero confidence in his ability to make fashion choices but he followed Dean into the store anyway. Once inside he stared at the vast selection of clothes with no small degree of trepidation. “It is bigger on the inside.”

“Nah, just looks that way. But we can skip through the women’s and children’s sections; the men’s is not that big. Pants, shirts, jackets, shoes, that’s all we need.”

“Right. I can do this.”

Dean squeezed his shoulder. “Course you can. You’ve battled Heaven and Hell and helped to avert the apocalypse. This is nothing. Now go on, pick some stuff to try on.”

There was a lot of variety to choose from but Cas figured that nondescript jeans were a reasonably safe bet, given that the majority of the American population seemed to wear them most of the time. He was not overly fond of bright colours or loud patterns and he did not understand many of the cultural references on the printed tees, so he simply selected a few plain t-shirts. Mindful of Dean's comment about his dress shoes, Cas picked up a couple of pairs of far sturdier boots which earned a nod of approval from Dean.

Jackets proved more difficult. He gravitated towards the trench coats and overcoats, but he knew that hardly counted as finding his own style. But there were so many other options.

“Just try them all,” Dean suggested. He bundled all of their selections into his arms and then led the way to the changing rooms.

Cas started with the jeans. It was more complicated than he realised. Some pairs were too long, too short, too tight, too loose, too uncomfortable. After a great deal of struggling and a few sharp words in Enochian, he finally found a pair that were the right length and fitted comfortably down the leg.

He pulled aside the curtain. “Dean, these seem to hug a little close around my- what?”

Dean was gaping at him.

“What is it?”

Dean made a conscious effort to close his jaw. “Those – uh – those look. Um. They look like a – good fit.”

“The best I can find,” Cas sighed. He twisted around, trying to see what they looked like from behind. “Are you certain they look alright?”

“Y-” Dean coughed to clear his throat. “Yeah, I’m sure. Can I ask why you aren’t wearing a shirt?”

Cas looked down at his bare torso. “I thought it would be easier to address one item of clothing at a time.”

“Well leave the jeans on while you try the t-shirts, okay?”

Cas nodded and retreated back inside the change room. He discovered that loose shirts were more comfortable, but something in Dean’s expression made him choose a couple of tighter fits as well. The shoes were fine.

“Oh no. No,” Dean shook his head. “No knitted cardigans.” He said no to the bright red jacket, looked absolutely disgusted by the mustard yellow one and considered a light grey overcoat before Cas set it aside himself. His eyes widened when he saw Cas in a black leather jacket. “Yeah, I’m… I’m gonna give a yea vote to this one.”

“I don’t know.”

Cas thought Dean almost looked disappointed but he didn’t contest the point. “There are still a few more you haven’t tried.”

When Cas pulled a blue sweater over his head it settled perfectly around his form. The fabric was soft, the length of the sleeves was just right and it was a slim fit around his waist without being constricting.

“Huh,” Dean said. “That suits you.”

“Really?”

Dean smiled a little. “Yeah. It’s the colour, matches your eyes.”

Cas blinked at him.

“Um, not that I would notice something like- I think that sweater came in a few other colours, I’ll just go and check-”

Cas was not really sure what to make of Dean’s behaviour, but he changed back into his old clothes, returned the items he wouldn’t be taking to one of the sales women and took his selections up to the counter. Dean joined him before he reached the front of the line, bearing the same sweater in dark grey and a deep forest green.

“You’re getting the leather jacket?”

Cas shrugged. “It works as an outer layer for colder days.”

Dean patted his shoulder. “Nice choice.”

The lady behind the counter totalled up their items and Dean paid with his credit card. "We had better head back to the car, Sam will be waiting for us."

“Dean.”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for your help with all of this. I am still trying to adjust to being human and your support means a great deal.”

Dean snagged a few bags from Cas to help carry them back to the car. “My pleasure, dude.”


	17. Piece by Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the Kelly Clarkson song of the same name

“I’ve got it, Cas,” Dean said for the umpteenth time, shrugging off the angel’s hand on his shoulder.

Apparently Cas hadn’t detected the undertone of annoyance in his voice; he hovered anxiously, ready to catch Dean if he fell.

“I’ve _got it, Cas_ ,” Dean stressed. “This is not my first broken bone. Hell, it isn’t even my first broken leg.”

“But the doctor told you to stay off it as much as possible for at least six weeks. I could carry you-”

“I can walk down the goddamn stairs, Cas!” The rationale part of Dean knew that it wasn’t fair to snap at him, but with the painkillers rapidly wearing off he was struggling to be civil. “You know what you could do that would really help?”

Blue eyes lit up. “What is it? Anything you need-”

“I need you to _get out of my way_.”

Chagrined, Cas backed off and reluctantly allowed Dean to navigate the stairs of the bunker on his own. Dean could still feel his concerned gaze on his back and he was none-to-impressed by the fact that Cas seemed certain he couldn’t manage this safely on his own.

“Ta-da,” Dean said dryly as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “And now for my next trick, I’m going to down a glass of whiskey in 5 seconds flat.” He made for the kitchen, mentally cursing his heavy limp and the pain that shot up his leg with every step.

“I don’t think you are supposed to mix prescribed drugs with alcoholic beverages.”

“Bite me, Cas.”

“Why would I-”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s an expression, Cas. In this case, it means I’m having a damn drink. It is Dad’s tried and tested remedy to cure all ills.”

Cas frowned. “If you will not be dissuaded, at least sit down and let me get the drink for you.”

“Seriously, Cas, _I’ve got it_. Trust me. The first time I broke my leg I was eleven, and you know what? I managed to splint it, make dinner for Sammy and tuck him into bed, then hop onto a bus to the nearest hospital _on my own_. It was two weeks before Dad came home from his hunt and Sammy and I were just fine. So, for the last time, Cas, _I’ve got it_. You don’t need to baby me.”

“I do not doubt that you are more than capable of managing on your own, Dean. But I am trying to tell you that you don’t have to. I’m right here.”

Dean turned to look at him. He saw sincerity shining in those blue eyes, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond to a declaration like that.

“Uh, thanks,” he said awkwardly. “But you don’t need to stick around. I’m fine, really.”

“I know you are,” Cas said. “But I also know that Sam won’t be back from Milwaukee for a few days, the fridge is almost empty and you’re running low on toilet paper. So you’re going to sit down on the couch, and I am going to put Netflix on the television for you, get you that drink and then go shopping.”

Almost involuntarily, Dean let himself be led to the couch. Cas plumped up some cushions for him to support his back and helped him put his foot up on the coffee table. Two minutes later the latest season of ‘The Walking Dead’ was playing on the TV and there was a glass of whiskey in Dean’s hand.

“I will be back soon,” Cas said.

“Do you need any cash?” Dean asked, reaching for his wallet.

“No. I’ve ‘got it’.” He used finger quotes and Dean smirked in spite of himself. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Uh, will do.”

“Rest easy, Dean.”

It took until he heard the sound of the bunker door closing for Dean to realise what had happened. Somehow he had consented to having Cas look after him for the next few days.

He couldn’t quite believe that Cas had offered.

But it meant a lot that he had.


	18. Ask

Dean couldn’t quite believe that a few minutes ago the sun had been dying, God had been on his death bed and Dean himself had been on a suicide mission to kill God’s sister. Now Chuck and Amara had made up, the sun was shining and it seemed that the world wasn’t going to end after all.

No one had died. This was a first for him.

Dean wouldn’t have been surprised to be forgotten in the wake of such a cosmic family reunion, but Chuck turned to him. “I think we’re just going to go away for a while and…”

“Hey, yeah, family meeting, I get it.”

“But first…” Chuck reached out a hand and drew the souls from Dean’s body like draining poison from a wound. He gasped a breath, not realising how much the bomb had been weighing on him until the weight was lifted.

“Better?” Chuck asked.

Dean nodded, but there was a slight sense of panic rising in him as he realised that God was about to leave the building. “What about us? What about Earth?”

“Earth will be fine. It’s got you. And Sam.” His lips quirked into a fond smile. “And Castiel.”

Dean’s heart jolted at the name but he quickly tried to squash the feeling down, terrified that the omniscient God would see right through him.

“You know, of all the angels, Castiel was always the most stubborn. He would question orders, argue, rebel in little ways. After he met you, he began to rebel in big ways.”

Dean swallowed nervously. He should have known that God would be pissed at him for corrupting one of his angels.

“But despite his missteps along the way, Castiel never betrayed his mission. In fact, of all the angels, I think Castiel is the only one who truly embraced the mission I had given them: to love and protect what I had created. He took it to heart. He gave it everything he had, and then some. He even died. Protecting you.”

Dean winced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I am not angry, Dean. His older brothers tried to tell me he was flawed, but I think Castiel was the one angel I got right. He was the only one who learned how to love.”

Dean didn’t know how to respond to that. It was one thing to dismiss Balthazar’s offhand comment about “the angel in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you” or Meg’s assertion that “he was your boyfriend first”, but to hear God himself talking about Cas and love…

His brain caught up, then. “Humanity, you mean.”

“Yes. But one human in particular.”

Dean’s mouth was dry. He half-wondered if Chuck was about to smite him on the spot. He knew he shouldn’t have hugged Cas in front of him. It was supposed to be a simple farewell but it was the last time Dean would ever get to hold him like that, and he regretted that he hadn’t done it more often, and he regretted that he hadn’t done more than that. Chuck must have picked up on the undercurrents. Dean was so screwed.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Dean. Of course I know. I have known from the beginning. But it gladdens my heart that my son could have found someone to care for so deeply.”

“Wait. What are you saying?”

“Dean, why do you think I kept giving Castiel back to you? I just want you both to be happy.”

“…together?”

“Yes, Dean. You have given me and my sister what we needed most – each other. You have always had Sam, but I don’t think that you have ever realised that you could have Castiel too, if you only asked.”

“But he-”

“He loves you, Dean. Do not ever doubt that.”

“But I-”

“Dean, remember who you are talking to. I don’t approve of lying, not even to yourself.”

Dean’s heart was pounding. He wasn’t sure if it was terror, or hope.

“You’re saying that I… have your permission?”

“Yes. Don’t wait any longer, Dean.”

“So… you won’t strike me down if I…”

“Just kiss him already. After everything you both have been through, you deserve this.”

“O-okay,” Dean stammered.

Chuck grinned. “Good! Glad that’s settled.” He moved to take his sister’s hand. “Oh, and Dean? One more thing. I expect to be invited to the wedding.”

“Uh – s-sure…”

Amara smiled. “I would like an invitation as well.”

“Um, yeah, okay…”

“And there is someone else I know who would want to be there. You’ll be seeing her soon.”

Dean’s mind was whirling. He had no idea what was going on, except somehow he had gone from expecting to live out the remainder of his life with repressed feelings for his angel pal, to having permission to ask him out, to planning a wedding.

“Be happy, Dean,” Chuck said. God and his sister evaporated into a swirl of Darkness and Light, leaving Dean alone.

Except he wasn’t alone. He had Sam, and he could have Cas. He only had to ask.


	19. All I Want for Christmas

 

 _"Hey Cas, we need you back here pronto."  
_  
"Are you okay?"  
  
_"Yes, but-"  
_  
"Is it Sam, is he-"  
  
_"No, he's fine."_ _  
_  
"The hunt you were on, the monster, did it escape? Do you need me to-"  
  
_"No, dude, chill out. It was an open and shut case."_ _  
_  
"So why...?"  
  
_"It's Christmas."_ _  
_  
"...Christmas?"  
  
_"Yeah. I know it's just a stupid holiday, but I thought that maybe it would be nice to spend it with my family."_ _  
_  
"Sam is there, isn't he?"  
  
_"Yes... But Cas, you're family too. You know that, right?"_ _  
_  
"Oh. I, uh..."  
  
_"If you're busy-"_ _  
_  
"No! No. I'll be there as soon as I can."  
  
_"Cool. Dinner's at 6."_ _  
_  
"You're cooking?"  
  
_"Yeah. It won't be nearly as good as what Mom used to make but-"_ _  
_  
"I'm looking forward to it. See you then, Dean."  
  
_"Yeah, okay. Bye, Cas."_

 

ooOOoo

 

Cas opened the door of the bunker - and froze in shock at the sight that greeted him.

 

Colourful twinkling lights were strung across the walls. Bunches of holly hung from the ceiling. Silver tinsel was wound around the banister. Right in the middle of the room was a huge balsam fir tree that had been decked out with lights, baubles, tinsel and topped with a golden star.

 

But by far the strangest sight was Dean. He was wearing a red knitted sweater with a loud pattern of reindeer emblazoned across the front - and he was bouncing around the room with a huge smile on his face as he continued adding more and more decorations wherever they would fit.

 

"Dean?"

 

Dean spun around. "Cas! You made it!"

 

Cas made his way down the stairs, still blinking in an attempt to adjust to the assault of colours. "I said I would."

 

Dean grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Glad to have you. Come on, dinner's nearly ready."

Cas was led into the library and encountered another surprise. The tables had been pushed together and were covered with a white cloth that was decorated with silver snowflakes. Candles burned merrily in red jars at either end. Pristine crockery, fancy silverware and crystal wine glasses were set out in three places. In the centre of the table was a large cake covered in white icing with tiny figurines set on top - reindeer and a fat man in a red coat riding in a sleigh. There was already a tremendous amount of food on the table but the scent of roasting meat was coming from the kitchen.

 

"Make yourself at home," Dean said as he vanished off to check on the turkey.

 

Cas gingerly took a seat, not at all sure how to respond to this entirely unprecedented situation.

 

"I know, right?" Sam said. He walked in carrying a heavy tray full of roasted vegetables. "We don't usually do Christmas. And we have never done one this big. I think Dean realised that we finally have our own place so he kind of went all out."

 

"It's... Uh..."

 

"A lot? Yeah. But Dean's enjoying himself."

 

They could even hear strains of off-key singing coming from the kitchen.

 

"I am honoured to be included in your celebrations."

 

"Hey, you're family now man. It wouldn't be the same without you. Besides, Dean really wanted you here."

 

Cas felt a warm sort of glow in his chest at Sam's words and wondered if there wasn't some truth to the claims that Christmas was a magical time of year.

 

"Dinner is served," Dean declared, setting the turkey on the table with a flourish.

 

"This all looks incredible," Sam said. "Mom would be proud."

 

Dean flashed him a small sad smile and there was a moment's pause as they remembered those they had lost.

 

"Okay, well, dig in guys," Dean said. He seemed almost nervous watching them as they speared slices of turkey, scooped up potatoes and vegetables and drizzled gravy over everything.

 

Castiel still had a small measure of his Grace, but he was mostly human now and his senses had adjusted accordingly. He couldn't taste molecules anymore which made eating a far more pleasurable experience. He pushed a mixture of foods onto his fork and raised it to his mouth, acutely aware of how Dean's gaze was fixed on him, waiting for his reaction.

 

Cas slid the fork into his mouth and was struck by a taste sensation that made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches pale in comparison. He let out an involuntary moan and closed his eyes. When he opened them again it was to find Dean staring at him with a slack jaw and Sam trying to to stifle his laughter.

 

"It's good," Cas explained.

 

Dean snapped his jaw shut and busied himself with his own food.

 

It wasn't long before their plates were cleared (twice over!) and Cas was certain that he couldn't possibly fit any more food into his stomach. But Dean took away their dishes and then brought out half a dozen different desserts as well.

 

"I, uh, didn't know what you would like."

 

Castiel's eyes were wide. "You did all of this by yourself?"

 

Sam nodded. "He kicked me out of the kitchen. Wouldn't let me anywhere near it."

 

The tips of Dean's ears were red. "I wanted to prove I could do it. I haven't had much practice."

 

"Everything tastes amazing," Sam assured him.

 

Despite how full he was, Cas made a point of cutting himself the biggest slice of pie so Dean would know how much confidence Cas had in his cooking. The smile on Dean's face suggested that he had succeeded.

 

They finished off with a bottle of champagne. The bubbles got in the back of Castiel's nose which made Dean laugh. The alcohol gave Cas a pleasant buzz and he lounged back in his chair feeling remarkably content.

 

"2000 plus Christmases," he mused. "And this has been my favourite one."

 

"It's not over yet," Dean said. "Hold on a sec." He disappeared from the room and came back a few minutes later with his arms laden with brightly wrapped packages. "Presents!" he beamed.

 

Castiel's heart sank. "I didn't get you anything."

 

But Dean didn't look disappointed. "You're here. That's good enough for me."

 

"Your presence is a present," Sam laughed.

 

Dean groaned. "Just for that I should keep yours for myself."

 

Sam reached out and snatched a package that had his name on it. "No chance." He unwrapped a box and discovered that it contained a new pair of sneakers. His face lit up. "Dude, this is perfect. My old pair are almost completely worn out!"

 

"You jog too much," Dean countered. "It's unnatural. But if you're going to do it, might as well do it in style."

 

"Thanks, dude."

 

"Here, Cas. This one's yours."

 

Cas accepted the package, not sure what to expect. He unwrapped it carefully, trying not to rip the paper, and unveiled three items. The first was a USB drive.

 

"I put my pick of the best classic movies on there for you to catch up on," Dean said. "It has been a while since I've watched some of them so we could watch them together if you wanted."

 

"I'd like that," Cas said.

 

The second gift was a leather-bound journal.

 

"Every hunter needs one," Dean explained.

 

Cas opened the cover and found two letters engraved on the inside. C.W. He traced them with a finger and then looked questioningly up at Dean.

 

Dean shifted nervously. "That will make more sense if you look at this first." He picked up the third item and held it out to him.

 

It was a Kansas Driver's Licence with Cas's photo, under the name 'Castiel Winchester'.

 

"I just wanted you to know. Really know. That you might not be blood, but you're a part of this family."

 

Cas was speechless. He looked from the driver's licence, to the initials in the journal, to Dean's face.

 

"Is it okay?" Dean asked, sounding suddenly uncertain.

 

Cas didn't know if it was food-induced euphoria, the lingering buzz of alcohol or simply the surge of emotion that swelled up within him at Dean's words, but he did something very impulsive.

 

He stood up, stepped into Dean's space, and kissed him full on the mouth.

 

Dean made a muffled sound of surprise but it was only a split second before he was kissing him back.

 

Somewhere in the background someone was cheering.

 

When they broke apart their cheeks were flushed and they were panting for air, but Dean looked happier than Cas had ever seen him. He rested their foreheads together and exhaled a gentle sigh.

 

"Cas," Dean said, "that was a hell of a Christmas present."

 

Cas smiled. "Merry Christmas, Dean."


	20. December 31st

Dean was up late doing research for a hunt. He had already drained three cups of coffee and the screen was blurring in front of his eyes, but he was almost there. He was sure the revelation he needed was just around the corner.

 

“Dean? Do you know what time it is?”

 

Dean blinked up at Cas, envying the angel for the fact that he didn’t need sleep. “Late, I’m guessing?”

 

“11:57pm,” Cas said. He set a fresh cup of steaming coffee down on the table next to him. “Do you know what day it is?”

 

Dean frowned. His brain was too fuzzy for riddles like this. “I dunno,” he grunted. “Sometime in December, last I checked.”

 

“December 31st.”

 

“Oh. Another year done, huh? Time flies when you’re trying to stop the world from ending.”

 

“The Earth couldn’t ask for a better protector.”

 

Dean grunted. “They could ask for Superman.”

 

“You defend the Earth without any superpowers. I think that makes you more of a hero.”

 

Dean coughed a little, trying to disguise the flush that was creeping up his neck. “Uh, thanks, Cas.”

 

“You know, Dean, I’ve heard that humans have a tradition on this day.”

 

“Yeah, getting drunk and shooting off fireworks. Too much chaos for my liking.”

 

“That’s not the tradition I was referring to.” Cas grasped the arms of Dean’s chair to turn it around to face him.

 

“Cas, what are you-”

 

“10 more seconds,” he whispered.

 

Dean swallowed, suddenly finding that Castiel’s face was only inches from his own. “Until what?”

 

But Cas didn’t answer. “3… 2…”

 

And then Cas kissed him.

 

In the distance, they could hear the sound of fireworks.

 

Cas pulled back, a rare smile on his face. “Happy New Year, Dean.”

 

It took him a few seconds to recover from the shock. But when he did, Dean decided that some traditions were definitely worthwhile. He tugged Cas back in by the lapels of his trench coat and kissed him until they were both breathless. “You, too.”


	21. Michael's Sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Angst and Main Character Death

Cas had never flown so fast in his life. His wings were straining, burning with exertion, but he put on another burst of speed, determined to reach Dean before it was too late. He spotted the hotel Sam had identified and saw the Impala parked outside, banked sharply and plummeted from the sky. He pulled up at the last second to avoid crashing through the hotel room floor, took a deep breath, and materialised.

Dean was there. He was standing in front of the mirror, palms resting on the sink bench, head hanging.

Castiel's gaze raked over him, noting the battered jeans and plaid shirt. He exhaled slowly, relieved that he had made it in time. His brother, pride of Heaven, would not wear such clothes. Cas could still stop Dean from making the mistake that could have apocalyptic consequences.

"Dean."

His back straightened and his green eyes flicked up to see Castiel's reflection.

"Dean, you don't have to do this. We will find another way. Come back with me, let me take you to Sam and we can-"

"I'm sorry, Castiel."

Dean turned to face him.

His expression was calm, his eyes devoid of any emotion. His posture was all wrong - poised and almost regal. He didn't look like a man who had lost all hope. He didn't look like a man who was willing to throw his life away and would fight anyone who tried to stop him.

He looked like a man possessed by an angel.

Castiel's breath hitched in his throat. His heart thudded painfully. He didn't want to say it aloud, to have his worst fears realised, but the word forced its way out of his throat. "Michael?"

"Yes," Dean's mouth said. "Hello, little brother. It has been a long time."

There was a rushing sound in Castiel's ears, like he was flying through a windstorm. He staggered under the force of it and felt his back collide with the wall. "N-no," he stammered. "I flew here as fast as I could. I should have been in time."

"Destiny is not so easily averted, Castiel. This was long foretold. It was always meant to be this way. Dean is my sword, my true vessel."

"Dean is a _person_ , not a weapon, not some meat-suit for you to wear!"

Michael raised Dean's eyebrows. "That is rich, coming from you. You were the first of our kind to claim human form. You took Jimmy Novak from his wife and daughter, if I recall."

Cas stiffened. "That was before I knew better." If Jimmy's soul hadn't gone to Heaven when Raphael killed him, Cas would have relinquished his hold and sent the man home. He should never have taken what wasn't his. "These humans are not ours to use and discard. They have lives, hopes, dreams... people who love them."

"Dean chose this. He said yes."

"Only because he felt there was no other choice! You placed the weight of the world on his shoulders, made him feel responsible for billions of innocent lives."

"And now his burden is lifted. His job is done. Now I can do mine."

"If you fight Lucifer you will decimate half the planet!"

"If I don't, he will destroy it completely."

"Michael, you will be forcing Dean to kill his own brother!"

Michael's face was blank, but there was a flicker of rage in his stolen eyes. "Do not assume this is easy for me, Castiel. I loved Lucifer before you were a fledgling, millennia before Dean Winchester ever even met his little brother. But though it pained me greatly, I cast Lucifer into the pit because that is what our Father asked of me. And I will kill him, because that is my duty. Just as it was your duty to raise Dean from Perdition."

"I don't care about duty! I don't care about orders from our long-absent Father. I care about Dean."

Michael looked at him carefully. "Yes, I suppose you do. You have been on Earth too long, Castiel; human weakness has tainted you."

"My eyes have been opened," Castiel snapped. "Heaven is corrupted."

"And the humans are not? Look at the way they slaughter each other with abandon. The wars they wage, the millions they allow to starve. We are going to cleanse the Earth and bring about a glorious new beginning."

"The sins of some should not condemn all. There are good people down here. Dean and Sam - they are good men. They have devoted their lives to protecting others. You cannot make them responsible for a global massacre."

"They are just the conduits."

Cas clenched his fists. "Do you think that makes a difference? You will be coating Dean's hands in oceans of blood. He will feel each death as though he is personally responsible. And if you make him kill his brother you will _destroy_ him."

Michael shook his head. "Look at you. Pretending to be concerned for the many, but in truth it is only Dean Winchester you care about. Little brother, you have been ensnared by the most vicious of human emotions. Love."

Cas bristled. "I don't know what you're-"

"You love him."

Castiel's heart seized in his chest. He tried to pull in oxygen, tried to make some sort of sound of denial, but the truth rang loudly in his ears.

_You love him._

He stared at the figure in front of him and he knew it was Michael but all he could see was Dean. Green eyes, freckles sprinkled across his nose, bow legs. Beautiful, flawed, broken, but fierce and loyal and so full of love-

Love.

Cas loved him.

Cas loved him, and he couldn't bear to see him like this. For Dean, who was so passionate about life, such a ferocious champion of the people, so dedicated to the brother he had raised, this was a fate worse than death.

Cas couldn't leave him like this. He couldn't let him suffer this way.

His sword was in his hand before he even made the conscious decision to draw it.

"It's a shame," Michael continued. He glanced at the weapon Cas held but seemed entirely unperturbed by it. He casually shrugged out of Dean's plaid shirt, then pulled his t-shirt over his head, as though offering Dean's chest to the blade.

Cas could see Dean's heart beating. His palms felt slick with sweat.

"You were lost from the beginning, weren't you, Castiel? From the very moment you laid hands on this human, you loved him. You wanted him. You even left your mark on his shoulder, trying to claim him as your own."

Castiel's eyes were drawn to the hand print.

Michael's fingertips grazed over the burn. "But he is mine, Castiel. He was always meant to be mine, and he always will be." There was a flash of grace, and when Michael pulled his hand away the mark was gone, leaving the skin smooth and unblemished.

"You were deluding yourself if you thought you could ever have him. But it is a shame, Castiel. Because he loved you, too."

The shock of Michael's words froze him in place. His sword dropped from numb fingers and clattered to the ground.

It was impossible. It couldn't be.

But Michael was inside him. He knew Dean's every thought and feeling. He had no reason to lie.

Dean loved him.

The revelation should have brought him joy, but instead it was agonising. He felt the anguish rip through his chest, and knew that nothing had ever hurt like this.

Because he loved Dean, and Dean loved him, too. But Michael had him and the world was ending and they would never know what they could have had together.

The pain was so absolute that Castiel barely even felt the archangel blade plunge through his chest.

But oblivion was only blessed relief.


	22. Need

There was no time to call out a warning.

 

Cas saw a flicker of movement in the trees and a split second later the creature was on them. It was a surging mass of teeth and claws, with coarse fur as black as pitch and a howl that would freeze lesser men in their tracks.

 

But it went straight for Sam and Dean didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward and caught it by the hind legs just as its jaws snapped shut inches from Sam’s neck. The creature snarled with vicious rage and twisted, wrenching out of Dean’s grip. Off balance, Dean crashed to the ground. He rolled, tried to bring his gun around, but heavy paws slammed against his chest.

 

“Dean!”

 

Cas fumbled with his own weapon. Guns had seemed simple during target practice back at the bunker. Dean had guided his fingers to trace each component and explained how they worked together to produce the combustion-propulsion effect. He had slotted in behind Cas to gently correct his stance and grip, and whispered in his ear about how an angel with a shotgun was damn sexy. Cas had never missed a single target.

 

But now Dean was screaming, “Shoot it, Cas, _shoot it_!” and trying desperately to wrestle the creature’s jaws away from his throat. It was dark and adrenaline was flooding through him and his heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty and Cas had the safety off and the gun aimed but the creature was on top of Dean and if he missed- God, if he missed he could kill Dean.

 

He didn’t fire.

 

The creature jerked its head out of Dean’s reach and reared back.

 

Cas caught a glimpse of wide green eyes before claws raked across his cheek and a dark spray of blood splattered across the dirt. Dean cried out and then _screamed_ as the creature’s teeth clamped down on his shoulder.

 

Cas ploughed into it from the side, shoving it off Dean. It yelped as it hit the ground and snapped at him with a mouth filled with dark blood. Dean’s blood.

 

The report of a gun cracked through the air. The creature scrambled up and bolted for the trees.

 

"Did it bite him?" Sam asked urgently.

 

Cas could only nod.

 

Sam swore. "The venom kills within an hour. We need the antidote."

 

"Blood of the felled beast," Cas recited.

 

"I'll get it. Just make sure you keep Dean alive until I get back."

 

"Sam-"

 

But he had already sprinted off in pursuit of the creature.

 

Cas dropped to his knees beside Dean, trying to find some measure of calm despite the blood and the black stain of the beast's poison already spreading through his veins.

 

"Dean." He grasped his good shoulder in an attempt to rouse him. "Dean! You need to wake up."

 

Dean groaned, eyelids fluttering. "Cas- what-?"

 

"We were on a hunt. You were bitten. It is imperative that you stay conscious."

 

Dean forced his eyes open. "Hunt. Right. Did - we get it?"

 

Cas ripped open Dean's shirt to get a better look at the damage done to his shoulder. There were no large chunks of flesh missing but the puncture wounds were deep and already festering. Blood oozed sluggishly down his arm. "Sam is working on it."

 

Dean's gaze sharpened. "Alone?" He struggled to sit up.

 

Cas pressed a firm hand against his chest to keep him down. "Don't move. Any movement will only hasten the spread of the venom."

 

"Sam can't go up against that thing on his own!"

 

Cas worried the same, but they'd had little choice. "It will take time for it to produce more venom."

 

"It still has teeth and claws."

 

"Sam will handle it."

 

"You should have gone with him."

 

"I wasn't about to leave you here like this."

 

"I'm fi-" His face suddenly blanched.

 

"Dean?"

 

His only reply was a strangled gasp of breath. Dean's eyes winced shut and his spine arched off the forest floor.

 

"Dean!"

 

Dean's hands clawed at the dirt. He wasn't getting enough air into his lungs.

 

On instinct, Cas pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead and reached for his Grace.

 

But he was human now. There wasn't a trace of his power remaining.

 

He was helpless.

 

"Dean, hold on, Sam's coming. Hold on."

 

A garbled moan escaped Dean's lips. After a few tense moments he collapsed back to the ground, panting. " _Fuck_."

 

"Dean? Are you alright?"

 

"Been better," he rasped.

 

Belatedly, Cas pulled off his jacket and shirt, wadding the latter into a ball and pressing it against Dean's shoulder.

 

He made a sound of protest and tried to bat Castiel's hands away.

 

"I'm sorry," Cas said, but he only pressed harder. Humans had less than five litres of blood circulating their bodies - Dean couldn't afford to lose much more.

 

"Beats - bleeding out - I guess."

 

"That's not what I meant."

 

Dean stiffened as another spasm of pain gripped him, fists clenching in the dirt again. Cas spared a hand to take Dean's in his own.

 

Dean squeezed hard, drawing in a ragged gasp of air. His body relaxed slightly but intermittent tremors traversed his frame. He blinked up at Cas, trying to focus. "Then - what - did you mean?"

 

Cas swallowed. "I didn't shoot when you told me to. If I had-"

 

"I could have been crushed. Or you could have hit me."

 

"I hesitated."

 

"This is your first hunt. Don't sweat it, Cas."

 

Cas examined Dean's pale face gravely. "I'm not the one sweating."

 

Dean grimaced, pulling at the claw wounds across his cheek.

 

Cas gently pulled his hand from Dean's and slipped his tie off over his head, using one end to mop up the blood and the other to dab at his forehead.

 

"If I had my Grace I could fix this in an instant."

 

"Where would be the - fun in that?" Pain was etched into his features but in true Dean Winchester fashion, he was cracking jokes.

 

"This is not my idea of fun."

 

Dean waggled his eyebrows at him and smirked. "Don't know if I'm up for much right now. Later, big boy."

 

Cas frowned. "Sexual innuendo seems inappropriate when you could be dead in an hour."

 

"Gee, thanks Cas. Anyone ever tell you you've got a charming bedside manner?"

 

"No."

 

Dean huffed a laugh but it turned into a hacking cough that had him curling in on himself. "Ah, _god_..."

 

Cas looked to the tree line, hoping to see Sam appearing with the miracle cure they needed, but everything was still. Silent.

 

Cas bit his bottom lip, feeling anxiety begin to swell. "If he doesn't come back soon the venom will penetrate your heart and there won't be anything we can do."

 

"Cas." Dean raised a hand, curving it around Castiel's own where it was pressed against his shoulder. "Sometimes it is okay to - to lie. To make someone feel better."

 

Castiel's brow furrowed as he tried to work out what he was supposed to do. "You're going to be fine," he said stiltedly.

 

A faint smile curved Dean's lips. "Course I am. You and Sammy will make sure of it."

 

"But if-"

 

"We've face a hell of a lot worse than this, Cas. This isn't the hunt that will kill me."

 

Cas wasn't so sure but he swallowed the words. He didn't mention the pallor of Dean's skin or the blood-stains soaking through his shirt or the black venom webbing out from his shoulder or the way his breathing was becoming more ragged with every minute that passed. Dean couldn't be unaware of the fact that his condition was deteriorating, but he was choosing to be optimistic, so Cas would too.

 

"When you're better, we'll get a pie to celebrate."

 

"Mmm. Pecan?"

 

"Whatever you want."

 

Dean peered up at him through his lashes. "Anything?" he purred. He licked his lips.

 

Cas couldn't believe that Dean was trying to seduce him in this state. It was even more ridiculous that his cheeks were reddening in response.

 

Dean chuckled. "You're so easy."

 

"You're ridiculous," Cas replied.

 

Dean's answering smile twisted into a grimace. His body pulled as taut as a trip wire and muscles clenched in his jaw.

 

"Dean. Just breathe. Breathe." It was supposed to be encouraging but it sounded more like a plea.

 

A tortured sound gurgled from Dean's throat. His chest heaved as he tried to get oxygen into his lungs.

 

"Dean-" Cas scooted forward, gathering Dean into his arms, trying to support him as best he could. "Dean, stay with me."

 

A hand closed around a fistful of Castiel's undershirt.

 

"C-Cas."

 

"I'm here."

 

Glazed eyes stared up at him. "Cas. Hurts."

 

Cas felt a sympathetic pang in his own chest. "I know. Sam will be here soon."

 

"I don't - Cas - I might not-"

 

"No. Dean. You are going to make it."

 

He nodded but Cas could see he was slipping.

 

"Dean, please. I know I said I'm okay with being human, but the truth is..." He swallowed. "The truth is that it scares me. I don't know how to do this without you. I don't _want_ to do this without you. I need you here. Stay here."

 

Dean blinked and for a moment his gaze cleared. "You need me?"

 

"Yes," Cas croaked. He cleared his voice and tried again because this was important. "Yes, I need you. Dean Winchester, you're my purpose, my reason, my everything."

 

For a long moment Dean just stared at him. The hint of a smile ghosted across his lips.

 

Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell limp in Castiel's arms.

 

"No! Dean! DEAN!"

 

Sam skidded into the clearing. "I'm here, I've got it, is he-"

 

"Sam, he just- he just-"

 

Sam ran forward and dropped down beside them. His hair was dishevelled, his clothes dirty and torn, but he had a canteen in his hands. "Dean, no, don't you dare. I've got what you need right here."

 

Dean didn't respond. Cas shook him and Sam patted his uninjured cheek, but there was nothing.

 

“Can we just feed it to him?” Cas asked.

 

Sam shook his head. “If he’s unconscious he won’t have a swallowing reflex.”

 

“Then what?”

 

Sam’s face was pinched with fear. “I don’t know.”

 

Castiel’s mind scrambled for the answer. He kept coming back to his Grace but it was gone, _gone_ , useless, and Dean was dying and Cas had only ever had one mission and right now he was _failing_.

 

He looked from the canteen of blood to the spreading poison. One was meant to counteract the other. Maybe it didn’t have to be swallowed.

 

Cas removed his ruined shirt. Dean’s shoulder was a mess of red, raw, angry wounds, crusted and oozing, turning black at the edges.

 

Sam gagged at the sight and the smell, turning his head.

 

Cas braced against it and took the canteen from Sam. He tipped a little of the blood onto one of the tooth-marks and watched anxiously as it sizzled.

 

Holding his breath, he used the hem of his trench coat to gently wipe the blood away.

 

The skin beneath was clear.

 

This time Cas spilled the blood liberally over Dean’s wounds. His body jolted in reaction and a grunt escaped his lips.

 

“Dean?” Sam asked.

 

Cas watched as the webs of black beneath his skin began to recede. When they were all gone he wiped the blood away and was met with an expanse of clear, unblemished skin, not so much as a scar remaining.

 

For good measure, Cas applied some of the blood to Dean’s face as well. Once those lacerations healed over, Dean’s skin began to lose the ghostly pallor and his lungs exhaled a slow breath.

 

“Dean?”

 

Green eyes fluttered open.

 

“H-hey,” Dean rasped. He raised a shaky hand to cup Castiel’s cheek. “You look worried, babe. What’d I miss?”

 

Sam stuttered a relieved laugh. “God, Dean, don’t do that to us.”

 

Dean looked to his brother, taking in his appearance and putting the pieces of his memories back together. “S-sorry. Thanks for getting the antidote.”

 

“It was Cas who got it to work.”

 

Green eyes flicked back to him. They were filled with warmth. “My hero,” he said, equal parts teasing and sincere.

 

Cas shook his head, too overwhelmed to speak. He just pulled Dean into a hug and pressed a kiss to his hair. “I don’t ever want to lose you,” he murmured.

 

Dean shifted to capture Castiel’s lips with his own. “I know,” he said quietly. “I need you, too.”


	23. Heartbeat

Considering how long it took for Cas to become comfortable with physical contact, Dean had been surprised to discover that Cas liked to cuddle. Whether they were coming down off a post-coital high or simply collapsing into bed after an exhausting hunt, Cas would always slot his body alongside Dean's, tangle their legs together and rest his head against Dean's chest.

He wouldn't sleep. Angels didn't need to. At first Dean thought Cas was just keeping him company until he nodded off and then would slip away to read or watch the stars or do whatever else he did to entertain himself while ordinary people slept.

But when he woke in the morning Cas was always there, still wrapped around him like he never intended to let go.

After a time, Dean noticed that Cas positioned himself so that his ear was pressed over Dean's heart.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked him once.

"Listening," Cas replied.

Dean puzzled over this and decided that Cas must spend the night meditating or something. Maybe the steady rhythm of his heartbeat helped Cas to concentrate. Find his 'zen' or whatever.

One night, after a particularly grisly hunt that had ripped through a neighbourhood and left a string of mangled corpses in its wake, Dean was struggling to fall asleep. He couldn't seem to relax; every time he closed his eyes the image of a bloodied body would flash through his mind and his eyes would snap open again. He knew they had ganked the monster and that the people were safe, but he kept feeling a bolt of adrenaline, like he had to go back and keep fighting or more people were going to die.

After a fruitless hour of trying to find sleep and failing epically, Dean thought maybe Cas was onto a good idea. Rather than move him from his favourite position, Dean just slipped a hand up the angel's shirt in a quest to find his heartbeat.

He was startled to discover that Castiel's pulse was racing.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" His voice sounded normal, but his heart was pounding away beneath Dean's fingertips.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your heart is going a mile a minute."

"Yes. It often does when we lie like this."

Dean blinked. "Oh. Um. Are you - aroused?" He felt a flush crawl up his neck at the thought.

"No. I could be, if you wanted-"

"Ah, no, that's okay. Are you still thinking about the case?"

"We were successful."

"Right." Dean wished he could set it aside so easily - he would usually rely on alcohol to wash away the taint of a hunt like that, but the angel's quiet concern about his drinking habits had led him to cut back quite a lot. "So what is it, then?"

"Nothing important."

"Cas, your heart should not be racing like this when you're at rest. If you were human I'd be taking you to the hospital right now."

"I'm not human," Cas said softly.

Dean frowned. There was something different in his voice that time. "Cas, what's wrong?" He felt the slight shrug of Castiel's shoulders. "Come on, talk to me."

"I'm not human," he said again. "This heart could beat indefinitely if I wanted it to."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why-"

"Yours won't."

Dean's words died in his throat.

"You're human," Cas continued. "On average, a human heart will only beat 3 billion times. I've already missed so many of yours. And one day they will run out."

Dean swallowed, beginning to realise the real reason why Cas curled up against his chest every chance that he got. It wasn't calming him. He was freaking out, listening to the clock of Dean's life ticking away.

"I'm immortal. I have lived for millenia and unless something kills me I will continue to live until the universe burns out. But you won't."

Dean wished he could promise Cas 'forever', the way that other couples would, but Cas was right. At best, Dean only had 40 or so years left to live, and as a hunter his life expectancy was far lower than that. To a celestial being whose existence spanned all of time itself, Dean's life was barely a blip on the radar.

"I understand now why they warned me not to grow too close to the humans in my charge. But I didn't listen. I couldn't. And now you're everything to me and I can't imagine life without you. It scares me, Dean, because I'll blink and you'll be gone. What am I supposed to do when that happens? How am I supposed to go on without the only thing that ever mattered to me?"

Dean didn't know how to answer. He wasn't exactly the poster boy for coping with loss and moving on with his life. He had done everything within his power to keep Sam alive, and when that failed he had done everything within the supernatural's power to bring him back from the dead, because he wasn't prepared to live without him.

Death was supposed to be a part of life. Dean had never been able to accept that when it came to Sam. He tried to imagine living for centuries after his brother was dead and buried - and he couldn't. He would rather die himself.

But the thought of Cas committing suicide because of him was equally unthinkable.

"You'll be fine," Dean tried. "After a while you'll forget all about me."

Cas shifted to look up at him. "Never," he whispered. "I could never forget you. I don't want to. You gave my life meaning. You showed this soldier what was really worth fighting for. You believed in me when I had lost all faith. You taught me how to love. In all my years of life, nothing has ever meant more to me than you, and nothing ever will again."

Dean stared into fathomless blue eyes. It was incomprehensible that an angel, an _angel_ , could look at him like this, could hold him like he was something precious, could value his life over everything else in all creation. If he tried to protest that he didn't deserve to be loved like this, Cas would insist that he did.

Dean could never see himself the way that Cas saw him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Castiel's brow creased slightly.

"For doing this to you." He hadn't realised the consequences of asking an angel to Fall for him. "I'm going to break your heart, and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm sorry."

Tears glimmered in Castiel's eyes. "Don't be," he said softly. He arched up and pressed his lips against Dean's in a gentle kiss.

When he pulled away there was a silent tear slipping down Dean's face. Cas cupped his cheek and brushed the trail of moisture away with his thumb. "Better to have loved and lost," he whispered. "I have no regrets."

He settled back into his usual position, ear resting against Dean's chest, an arm curved around his waist.

Beneath his fingertips, Dean could feel Castiel's heart rate settle.

He was at peace with this. Dean decided that he would be, too. And they would make the most of whatever time they had left together.


	24. Stay

Blissed-out and totally content, Dean rolled over and exhaled a sigh, letting his eyes close.

 

“Dean, how do you feel about me?”

 

Dean blinked. He wanted to sleep. He might have been able to tolerate cuddling. But did Cas seriously want to have a conversation _now_? “What sort of question is that?”

 

“A valid one.”

 

Hardly. “We're sleeping together.”

 

“Yes. And how many women have you slept with?”

 

Dean shrugged. What did it matter? “I don't know.”

 

“More than you can count. Sex is meaningless to you.”

 

Dean turned over to look at Cas incredulously. They were naked, in bed together, in a room that used to be his and was now theirs. “It's not meaningless!”

 

Cas was practically glaring, as though Dean hadn’t given him a blow job that made him shout to high heaven (probably scarring his siblings for eternity) barely ten minutes ago. He should have been high on endorphins, not spoiling for a fight. But his voice was curt as he answered, “Fine, it makes you feel good. But you assign no emotion to it. Your body has urges, sex fulfils them. Any willing body will do.”

 

Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “If I just wanted sex I would still be hooking up with women.”

 

“Except you haven't had much luck seducing them lately. How long had you gone without copulating before you had intercourse with me?”

 

Dean’s own happy hormones were being rapidly doused. He had a sour taste in his mouth. “I don’t think that is any of your business.”

 

“I deserve to know if I'm just a convenient way of exercising your libido.”

 

Dean sat up, all thought of sleep forgotten. “Is that really what you think of me?”

 

Cas had withdrawn to the other side of the bed. His arms were folded across his chest and he wasn’t meeting Dean’s gaze. “I don’t know what to think. You haven’t said anything. I admitted how I felt about you and you let me kiss you and then we started doing _this_. But it has been two months and you haven’t said a word.”

 

“Are you expecting me to start spouting a whole bunch of lovey-dovey chick-flick crap? Because if that’s what you’re after, you’re with the wrong guy.”

 

“I'm not asking for a sonnet.”

 

“Then what? What do you want from me, Cas?”

 

“I want you to talk to me.”

 

“I am talking to you. This is talking.”

 

Cas flicked a glance at him. “It sounds more like yelling.”

 

Dean’s expression darkened. “This is _not_ yelling, but if you don’t spit out what you’re trying to say then it might head that way.”

 

“Why are you like this? Is it because of your father?”

 

Dean spluttered. “ _Excuse_ me?”

 

“Of course it is. You were the eldest. He treated you more as a soldier than a son. It was probably a rare day when he said he was proud of you. I doubt he ever told you what you really wanted to hear.”

 

There was a roaring in Dean’s ears. He didn’t care that he was naked; he couldn’t stand to be on the bed a second longer. He flipped off the covers and was across the other side of the room in seconds, as far away from Cas as possible, even though the scant two paces weren’t nearly far enough. “I can’t believe you just said that,” he fumed at the wall.

 

“I’m just trying to understand.”

 

“I’m not some hooker in a brothel, Cas, I don’t need you psycho-analysing me!”

 

“What choice do I have? You never tell me what you are feeling.”

 

“Because I’m a dude. We’re dudes. We don’t _do_ this.”

 

“Sam doesn’t seem to have any trouble expressing his emotions.”

 

“Why don’t you go fuck him then?” Dean snapped. His fists were clenched so tight his nails were biting into his palms; he was resisting the urge to punch the wall.

 

“Because I am not in love with him, I’m in love with you.” He sounded so calm, so matter-of-fact about it.

 

Dean whirled around to face him. “Don’t say that!”

 

“Why not? It’s true.”

 

“How would you know? Until six months ago you weren’t even human!”

 

“I fell in love with you long before I Fell from Heaven. You were the reason I Fell.”

 

Dean felt a stab of guilt at the thought that he was responsible for Cas losing everything - his home, his family, his Grace, his immortality – and it only made him angrier. “Don’t go blaming me.”

 

“I don’t. It was the best decision I ever made.”

 

Dean snorted. “Yeah, sure. Now you’re stuck down here, slumming it with us humans.”

 

“I’m with you. That’s all I ever wanted.”

 

“Except I’m not living up to your expectations, am I? You thought this would be all sweet and romantic, that we’d get married and adopt a few kids and live in a house with a white picket fence and leave the hunting life far behind us. Well I hate to burst your bubble, Cas, but that is never going to happen. I’m not that guy.”

 

“I’m not asking you to be. I don’t need any of those things. All I need is you. But I need _all_ of you. I need you to be open and honest with me. I need to know that we are in this together.”

 

“We’re here, aren’t we? We’re together. It doesn’t get more together than this.”

 

“We sleep together. But without an emotional connection, it’s just sex. And that’s not what I’m looking for.”

 

Dean looked around at the small room; the first place he’d ever had to truly call his own. After years of hopping from motel to motel, constantly sharing with Sam, carrying all his belongings in a rucksack, it had been an incredible feeling to finally have his own bedroom. He felt comfortable here. Safe. Or he had, until he found himself naked in the corner, hideously exposed in front of the first person he had dared to trust like this, who was in the process of throwing it all back in his face.

 

"This is my space,” Dean said stiffly. “I let you in, but if that isn't good enough for you, the door is right there."

 

Cas stared at him. Then, slowly, he stood up and began to gather his clothes off the floor. He pulled them on, one piece at a time, utterly silent. When he was finished, he walked to the door and placed his hand on the knob.

 

“I have told you I love you,” he said quietly. “I have saved your life more times than I can remember. I have betrayed Heaven for you. I have killed for you. I have died for you. I have done everything I can to atone for my mistakes and to earn your forgiveness. I have forgiven you in turn for all the times you have hurt me. I have returned to you over and over again. I don’t know what else I can do to convince you that my feelings are genuine. But if you do not return those feelings, then I’ll go. I won’t bother you again.”

 

He opened the door.

 

Dean stared at Castiel’s back, and he could feel something inside him breaking. But he should have known this would happen. Everyone he loved left him eventually. He had thought that maybe, if he didn’t admit it out loud, or even to himself, if he didn’t let the universe know that he was daring to open his heart to someone, that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be taken from him. Maybe Cas would stick around. But he should have known better.

 

He wanted Cas to stay, but the words stuck in his throat.

 

Cas bowed his head. “Goodbye, Dean.”

 

And just like that, he was gone.

 

Dean knew that, this time, he wouldn’t be coming back.

 

His throat tightened. His eyes were burning. He clenched his fists tighter, not caring if he broke the skin, but the pain didn’t help. He was shaking. Grief was welling up in his chest, trying to choke him.

 

He shouldn’t cry. He should be immune to this by now. He is Dean Winchester, and everybody leaves him. Story of his life. This shouldn’t hurt so much. It shouldn’t be breaking him in two.

 

But a sob escapes his throat and a traitorous tear escapes.

 

God. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t lose Cas. Not Cas.

 

Before he even knew what he was doing, Dean had thrown on his jeans and a t-shirt. He sprinted through the bunker, running faster than his legs had ever taken him.

 

He found Cas at the top of the stairs, ready to walk out on him forever.

 

“Cas, wait!”

 

His hand was on the door, but he didn’t open it. He wasn’t turning around, but he wasn’t leaving. Not yet.

 

“Cas. Please. We can work this out, alright? But only if you stay. I need you to stay."

 

“Why?”

 

Dean swallowed. He didn’t know how to do this. “I don’t- I don’t have a good reason for you. I know you have a thousand reasons to leave. I know I’m messed up. All I ever do is yell at you, insult you, blame you, lash out at you, push you away. You don’t deserve any of the crap I have shovelled on you. You shouldn’t have to put up with me. I don’t have any right to ask you to stay. But I want you to. Because I- because…” Oh god. He couldn’t. Even though he was about to lose everything, he couldn’t get those damn words out of his mouth.

 

“Cas, I haven’t- I haven’t ever… not since Mom. Because I told her every day and then one day I couldn’t anymore. Dad never – and Sammy, I tried, but I was scared because if I – then he might – and I couldn’t go through that again. It hurts, Cas. It hurts every damn time I lose someone I care about and if I say it – I might not ever be able to pull myself back together again.

 

“But I do, Cas. I can’t say it but I need you to look at me and hear it anyway. Please.”

 

Cas turned around slowly. Dean walked up the stairs to meet him, fear weighing down his every step. His mouth was dry. His heart was pounding.

 

Cas was looking at him, but he didn’t say a word. Dean came to a stop in front of him. He wanted to reach out, but physical connection wasn’t good enough.

 

“Cas, when I say I need you… It’s the same. It means the same. I need you like I need oxygen. I need you beside me. I need your smile and your patience and your faith and your forgiveness. I need your strength and your ferocity and your stubbornness. I need your passion and your determination. I need your awkwardness and your dorkiness and the way that your eyes light up when you’re happy. I need you. I-”

 

But the words still wouldn’t come. Three words. It shouldn’t be this hard. He was looking at Cas and he could feel the emotion swelling up inside him but he couldn’t get it past his throat.

 

“I’m sorry,” he choked. He buried his face in his hands; he couldn’t bear to watch Cas leave. The door would slam and Cas would be gone and then Dean could collapse and let the tears take him.

 

But he felt gentle hands pulling his away from his face.

 

“Dean,” Cas said gently. “I hear you.” He leant in and pressed a soft kiss against Dean’s lips.

 

To Dean’s utter humiliation, the tears spilled over anyway.

 

But Cas just smiled and kissed his eyelashes. “I love you, too.”

 


	25. Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam P.O.V

Dean and Cas have been together for a couple of weeks and Sam is beginning to notice that his brother is exhibiting some strange behaviour…

Like singing in the shower.

And baking. A lot.

Hiding Cas’s trench coat in the freezer and pretending to be clueless as Cas searches everywhere for it.

Buying all sorts of weird ties for Cas to wear – the nerdier the better. Cas likes the one with the cats.

Pieing Cas in the face and then licking the cream off him.

Introducing Cas to funny cat videos online and laughing more at Cas laughing than at the cats.

Talking about buying a guniea pig for Cas’s birthday… then making up a birthday for Cas because he doesn’t have one (he chose the date they first met)… and then throwing a party for him… and making him wear a party hat.

Texting with emoticons.

Smiling. Like real genuine smiles that curve his lips and crinkle around his eyes.

Drinking less. Brewing coffee instead, and making tea for Cas who finds it soothing.

Buying an old guitar from a thrift shop and _playing it._ In the library. When he’s not the only one home. Where Sam and Cas can _hear him_.

Collecting records and playing them on the Men of Letter’s old record player. Dancing. Teaching _Cas_ to dance. Cas struggling to get the moves right, so Dean starting to dance like _him_ instead.

Bantering with Sam. Teasing Cas.

Fixing Cas’s clothes. And if they are already perfect, mussing them up a bit.

Being silly and a bit of a doof.

It takes Sam a while but eventually he realises what he is seeing. Dean isn’t just in love. He’s _happy._


	26. To Love Dean Winchester

Castiel was unfamiliar with human emotions.

In any other area of human behaviour, customs or culture, Castiel was proficient in learning through observation, and where his knowledge lacked Dean was usually willing to help fill in the gaps – once he stopped laughing. But Dean did not like talking about emotions and, in any case, the particular issue Castiel was struggling with at the moment would be distinctly awkward to discuss with him.

So Castiel asked Sam.

"What does it mean to love someone?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "As in – love, love?"

"I do not understand the distinction."

"Romantic love, as opposed to platonic or familial love," Sam clarified.

"Yes. Romantic love."

The expression on Sam's face was beyond the scope of Castiel's experience. It seemed to be a mixture of surprise, amusement, curiosity and something else – an almost knowing look? Castiel did not know how to decipher it, but he already had one puzzle befuddling him and could not spare the brain power for solving anything.

"The thing is, Cas, it is not very easy to explain."

"Why?"

"Well, because love means different things to different people. And a lot of it depends on the person you are in love with."

Castiel frowned. "How?"

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, as though trying to think of the right words. Castiel waited patiently. "Ah, let's see if I can give you an example. For me, back when I was at Stanford, loving Jess meant-" He faltered.

Castiel knew enough to realise this would be an uncomfortable topic for Sam after what had happened to his girlfriend. "You don't have to-"

"It's okay." Sam drew in a slow breath. "For me, loving Jess meant keeping my old life a secret and staying far away from anything remotely supernatural. It meant finding a place to call home for the first time in my life and asking her to move in with me. It meant letting my hair grow because she didn't want me to cut it. It meant telling her she was beautiful every day, going clothes shopping with her and not complaining when she spent two hours in the bathroom each morning getting ready. It meant listening to her sing as she baked and sampling each batch of cookies she made until she found the perfect recipe. It meant letting her drag me to parties when I would rather go to the library to study. It meant snuggling with her on the couch in front of a chick-flick eating chocolate ice-cream, going ice-skating out on the frozen lake, having picnics in the park and teaching her about constellations on starry nights. It meant holding her when she cried and smiling when she laughed. It meant picking out the perfect ring and planning a future together. It meant trying to keep her safe… and it meant being consumed by revenge when I couldn't save her."

"I am sorry, Sam."

Sam shook himself out of his reverie. "It was a long time ago."

"But it still hurts."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Love's a bitch that way."

Castiel frowned. Humans wrote songs and sonnets about this mysterious and supposedly wonderful emotion, but as far as he could tell it brought about just as much harm as happiness. "It sounds as though love is best avoided, then."

Sam gave him a small, sad smile. "You say that like anyone has a choice in the matter. You can't help who you fall in love with, Cas."

"That is… troubling."

"Maybe. But even if I had known that it would end in heartbreak, I wouldn't trade a single moment I had with Jess for anything."

"You are saying... the pain is worth it?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

Castiel took his time to absorb that information.

"Cas? Are you in love with someone?"

"You have given me some clarification on the subject," Castiel acknowledged cautiously, "but the matter still requires further consideration and analysis before a conclusion can be drawn."

Sam huffed a quiet laugh. "Well, I wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you, Sam."

With a flutter of wings, Castiel was gone, setting off on a grand adventure to discover just what it meant to love Dean Winchester.

ooOOoo

To love Dean Winchester, Castiel reflected, was to witness the torture he inflicted on souls in hell and feel, not revulsion or disgust, but compassion.

When ordered to raise a man from perdition, Castiel had been hesitant. Souls were sentenced to hades for a reason – for committing crimes against the Father or against their fellow man, for living in sin and being unrepentant, or for bargaining with demons out of greed. But Castiel had done his research on this man, this hunter, and discovered to his surprise that he was innocent. Dean had sacrificed himself for his brother, and greater love hath no man. His condemnation had been unjust, and his purity meant he would suffer greater torment than any other soul in hell.

It was for that reason that Castiel had fought so hard to reach him, and it was why he could not blame Dean for breaking before he could. He saw what the man had been forced to become, and he mourned for what had been lost. Castiel did not realise it then, but when he saw Dean's brokenness and strove to make him whole, emotion was awakened within him.

To love Dean Winchester was to reform his body with utmost care, leaving it unmarred by all scars save for the mark of his saviour. Castiel had always been awed by the beauty of his Father's creation, but never had he studied a human so intimately. Dean was perfection, and to sculpt him with his own hands was a privilege beyond any Castiel had ever known before. He should not have left his print on Dean's shoulder, but the urge to lay claim to this masterpiece was deep, primal, and impossible to resist.

To love Dean Winchester was to want to make him feel worthy. Dean did not believe he deserved to be saved. He had no concept of his own self-worth, and his great destiny made him feel burdened, not important. Castiel wished he knew a way to convey to Dean how precious he was, but words were insufficient and Castiel was at a loss.

To love Dean Winchester was to admire his courage. Castiel saw the way this human fought the monsters of the dark and stood up to the powers of heaven, and marvelled at his bravery. The risk to his life would not stop Dean from battling evil for the sake of the innocent, and even threats to cast him back in the pit would not turn Dean from a course of action he believed to be right. He held fast to his morals and would not bow for man, God or monster. Castiel should have been frustrated that Dean did not fear him, but instead of fear he earned trust, and to Castiel that was worth far more.

To love Dean Winchester was to learn from him. Dean taught the angel that the 'small' picture was just as important as the big one, and that the lives of innocent people should never be dismissed as collateral damage. He taught Castiel to never give up looking for a better solution and that surrender wasn't an option. He taught Castiel to throw away the script and think for himself.

To love Dean Winchester was to Fall. Castiel disobeyed. He rebelled against the will of Heaven, betrayed his brethren, abandoned his sworn duty and sacrificed everything he had. Not because he knew the 'right' and 'wrong' of the situation, but because he trusted that Dean knew. When everything was falling apart, he believed in Dean.

To love Dean Winchester was to accept that he was flawed. Despite giving the impression that he knew what he was doing, Dean made most of it up along the way, and sometimes he made mistakes. Sometimes he failed. Sometimes, although he had the best intentions, he made the wrong choices. Sometimes he was weak. But Castiel could never be disappointed in him for long, because time and again Dean stood back up and kept trying.

To love Dean Winchester was to fear for his safety. His work was dangerous and he always managed to get on the bad side of creatures both willing and able to rip him to shreds. Keeping him alive and unharmed was an exhausting task, almost too much for one angel to handle on his own. However, the consequences if Castiel failed were unbearable to think about so he gave it his all, even dying once or twice in his efforts to protect Dean.

To love Dean Winchester was to be jealous. Dean was very fond of physical pleasure and there seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of women falling over themselves to be with him. He never blinked twice at even the most attractive men, and chose to indulge in 'magic fingers' available in motel rooms when pickings were slim. Castiel was awkward, inexperienced and somewhat alarmed by the concept of physical intimacy, so it was no wonder that Dean never looked at him that way. It didn't stop Castiel from feeling jealous, though.

To love Dean Winchester was to find a little too much enjoyment in startling him with sudden appearances and invading his personal space. When Dean allowed him to get away with standing in such close proximity, and when surprise was swiftly replaced by relief or, better, happiness to see him, Castiel felt warmth spread through his insides.

To love Dean Winchester was to be teased endlessly but not mind in the slightest. Castiel had noticed the way that Dean picked on his little brother and realised it was his way of expressing affection. So when he was on the receiving end of Dean's jokes, Castiel felt cared for, not belittled.

To love Dean Winchester was to cherish even the smallest touch. Castiel held out for those moments when Dean would put a hand on his shoulder, muss his hair or straighten his tie. He stood close so they might bump shoulders and hoped that when he handed something to Dean their fingers would brush against each other. He wondered if Dean would go so far as to hug him some day. He daydreamed of more.

To love Dean Winchester was to be confused. Dean's speech was cluttered with many references to 'pop culture' that Castiel did not understand, and sometimes trying to decipher what Dean was thinking or feeling was even more perplexing.

To love Dean Winchester was to be frustrated by the lack of progress. Once Castiel came to terms with the burgeoning emotions he felt for Dean, his physical attraction began to increase exponentially. Everyone and their dog (a strange human expression; what did canines have to do with anything?) seemed able to tell that Castiel felt strongly for the human he spent so much time with, except for Dean himself who apparently remained oblivious.

To love Dean Winchester was to be captivated by green eyes.

To love Dean Winchester was to count the freckles on his face as often as he could.

To love Dean Winchester was to stand watch over him as he slept and ward off the nightmares.

To love Dean Winchester was to provide support, reassurance and back-up.

To love Dean Winchester was to come whenever he called and sometimes when he didn't.

To love Dean Winchester was to be yelled at, underappreciated, cursed and occasionally punched in the face.

To love Dean Winchester was to hate letting him down and to feel crushed when Dean was angry with him.

To love Dean Winchester was to adore his smile and do everything possible to draw one out of him. His laugh was even better.

To love Dean Winchester was to love everything about him. Every quirk, every mannerism, from his attachment to his car to the way he rocked out to his music when he thought no one was watching, from his charm and flirting to his moments of unexpected sincerity, from his shameless indulgence in iniquity to his tireless efforts to do the right thing, from his obsession with pie to his occasional attempts at home cooking, from his ruthless efficiency when hunting to his gentle compassion for the victims, from his confidence to his doubt.

Castiel was hopelessly, helplessly, whole-heartedly in love with Dean Winchester.

More often than not, loving him was difficult and painful.

But to love Dean Winchester, and to be loved in return… there was no greater feeling in the entire universe.

And Castiel discovered that, in the end, love was worth it after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two from Dean's POV is in the next chapter.


	27. If

If Dean was in love with Castiel – and, for the record, he most certainly was _not_ – he would be under no illusions that it was anything other than a terrible idea. An awful, truly _stupid_ idea that would only end in heartbreak and tragedy. Dean wasn't an idiot. He wouldn't be dumb enough to fall in love, period, let alone with his best friend.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, it would mean a human was in love with an angel. It would mean a mortal man, doomed to die long before old age could claim him, was in love with a supernatural being; one who had lived for thousands of years and would live for thousands more if he didn't manage to get himself killed.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would face a crisis of sexual identity, despite claims that angels had no gender. Being an attractive male himself, Dean could recognise a fine specimen when he saw one, but he had never been attracted to a man before (Dr. Sexy didn't count). He was straight. He was supposed to be straight. He liked women. He had sex with women, frequently, and if he was never completely satisfied afterward, well that didn't really mean anything.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would struggle to reconcile the fact that Castiel and his vessel, Jimmy, were separate entities and he would have no clue how to deal with the whole mess of ethical issues that created.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would feel guilty for being a bad influence on him and for slowly but surely corrupting the angel. He would feel guilty for encouraging the perfect soldier to disobey orders, for pulling Castiel away from his family, for turning Cas against his father, for causing him to lose faith, for asking him to leave the only home he had ever known to protect Dean's. Above all, he would feel guilty for being responsible for the Fall of an angel.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would grieve every time he died. It would destroy him, little by little, piece by piece. He would want to scream and cry and beg for Castiel to come back to him. He would feel lost and hopeless and dead inside until Cas was mysteriously resurrected, and when the angel was taken from him again he would hold out for a miracle because the thought of losing Cas forever was unbearable.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would need Cas like he needed oxygen. He would feel lonely without him there. He would selfishly want to command all of the angel's attention and call him down for the smallest trivialities just so he could see him again.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would worry that Cas could read this thoughts and see into his dreams. His fantasies would run rampant, and he would worry that the angel would be repelled by them, disgusted by him.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would freak out at the thought of 'meeting the parents' – in this case, _God_ – or, if the big man didn't care enough to smite him personally, facing a multitude of protective older brothers instead. There had to be a particularly nasty circle of Hell reserved for a bastard who would defile an Angel of the Lord, and Dean had no doubt that the heavenly host would throw him straight back in the pit if he tried to make a move on one of their own. Worse, and all the more terrifying, was the thought that Castiel himself would react that way.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would stop pushing Cas toward women in bars or dragging him to hooker joints. He might even get jealous if a pretty girl on the street so much as batted her eyelashes at him. He would hate the idea of someone else stealing Cas away, touching him, being his first.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he wouldn't mind bearing the angel's hand print on his arm. For the man who had no home, who did not belong anywhere, it would be too easy to wilfully interpret the scar as a mark of possession. He could believe that finally, at the very least, he belonged to someone.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would read too much into the way Cas looked at him. He would delude himself into thinking that the angel found him interesting, like a puzzle to be solved, or considered him eye candy, like he was God's most handsome creation, or was so entranced by his good looks and sparkling personality that he couldn't look away.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would secretly enjoy the times when Castiel forgot about social etiquette and invaded his personal space. He would savour the scent that was all sunshine, freshly tilled earth and the ocean breeze. He would bask in the energy, the buzz of power, which radiated from the angel. He would steadfastly avoid looking at those perfect lips, knowing that he might lose all self-control if he did. He would notice how Castiel never seemed to accidentally crowd in close to anyone else, and wonder why he was the exception.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would feel comforted, not creeped out, by the idea of Cas watching over him while he slept. He would know that any night that passed without nightmares could be attributed to the angel's presence, and he would be grateful beyond words even as he wondered how much better he would sleep with Cas lying beside him.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would find himself preoccupied with the loose, backwards tie Castiel always wore. He would have to fight the desire to straighten it, or use it to tug Cas closer, or pull it off completely to gain access to the buttons of his shirt and then use it to… But his thoughts didn't go there. Often.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would want to wax poetical about stunning blue eyes and a jaw chiselled by Michelangelo himself. He would listen to sappy romantic songs and earn strange looks from his brother when he knew enough of the lyrics to sing along.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would have been captivated from the very moment he first laid eyes on him when Castiel had made his grand entrance into that warehouse, framed by bursting light bulbs and scattering bolts of electricity.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would have trusted him inexplicably from the beginning.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would find his cluelessness about humanity hopelessly endearing. He would be willing to show him the ropes of living life on earth and teach him how to interact with humans, but he would secretly hope that the angel would always retain some of his naivety.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he could be accused of deliberately using references Cas wouldn't understand so he could see that adorably confused expression on his face.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would feel a jolt in his stomach whenever he earned the slightest smile.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, the rough timbre of his voice would send shivers down his spine.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he would want to make him proud, to deserve the trust the angel had in him, and he would hate letting him down.

If Dean was in love with Castiel, he wouldn't mind all the innuendo about their relationship. In fact, he would probably feel wistful whenever someone referred to Cas as his boyfriend or suggested that Cas loved him.

But Dean _wasn't_ in love with Castiel.

Or, at least, that is what he tried very hard to tell himself for a very long time.

Until the day he looked deep into the eyes of his angel and saw the same emotions he had buried and denied reflected back at him. Until he was the one who stepped into Castiel's personal space, standing near enough to feel warm breath ghosting across his skin. Until he noticed the angel's gaze drop to his lips and saw his tongue dart out nervously to wet his own. Until Cas spoke his name in a deep, husky voice and slipped a hand around his neck to pull him in tantalisingly closer. Until Dean's fists closed around the lapels of Castiel's trench coat and gave a determined _tug_.

Their lips crashed together in a rush of heat and lust and want and desire and _love._ It was awkward, messy, fumbled and desperate, and it was the best kiss Dean had ever shared with anyone.

It turned out that Dean was an idiot, after all. If he had not been so deep in denial about his feelings and so oblivious to the way Castiel felt about him in return, they could have been doing this a lot sooner.

It was okay, though. They had every intention of making up for lost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The companion piece from Castiel's POV is in the previous chapter


	28. Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guardian Angel AU

Night had fallen across the east coast of America and the break room at Guardian Headquarters, US Division, was beginning to fill up with angels coming off shift.

"Another boring day," Gabriel sighed, snagging a candy bar off the table and kicking his feet up. "My kid spent the entire day in the _library._ There were no near misses, not even something as simple as a sharp page trying to give him a papercut. I swear, I was half tempted to knock over a bookshelf just so I would have something to do!"

Anna batted Gabriel's feet off her chair. "It goes against our mandate to put our charges at risk," she scolded him.

Gabriel waved a careless hand. "He would have been fine. He's got annoyingly fast reflexes. A ball came whizzing straight for his head in the school yard last week and he caught it without even looking up from his book. I haven't had to pull any dramatic rescues in _ages._ "

"Quit your whining," Ezekiel said. "You should count yourself lucky that you've got such an easy charge. My guy's a police officer. Last week it was some punk kid with a knife, yesterday it was a high-speed car chase, today he was shot at. Only reason he didn't wind up with a bullet through his head is because I tripped him up, and he was cussing the whole way home about his skinned hands. As if not being able to hold his gun for a couple of days is a fate far worse than death."

"Ungrateful ponce," Balthazar said. "We've all been there, mate. I've lost count of the number of times I've had to convince a barkeep to water down his vodka before my kid gives herself alcohol poisoning. She wakes up with the worst hangovers, swears she'll never drink again, and the next weekend it starts all over."

"It's a faze, she'll get over it," Hannah told him. "Mine was the same a few years ago. Now I'm just trying to make sure she's not so sleep deprived from the baby keeping her up all night that she walks into the sliding door when she goes to hang out the washing."

Balthazar's eyebrows shot up. "You let her get pregnant?"

Hannah swatted the back of his head. "What do you take me for? She's married. I steered her towards a nice young man with a stable job who's taking good care of her. Which reminds me, Rachel-"

She smiled. "He popped the question this morning. Took her on a hot air balloon to watch the sunrise. There were supposed to be some unfortunate winds but I took care of it – the whole thing went off without a hitch."

There was a chorus of congratulations around the table.

"There's another success story for you, Balthazar," Hannah said. "Rachel's boy was in a motorcycle gang before she set him up with that sweet innocent thing from Atlantic City."

"Did he stop riding those death machines?" Esther asked hopefully. "I feel like I'm always manipulating traffic so mine doesn't get side-swiped or worse by drivers who don't check their mirrors enough. Last week I made him have engine trouble to steal a bit of respite, but the bike came back from the mechanic's on Monday." She sighed and rubbed at her shoulder. "I think I'm getting wing-sprain."

"Need a massage?" Gabriel asked with a broad grin.

Esther flicked the tip of her wing in his face, causing him to reel backwards and almost fall out of his chair. "That answer your question?"

The chuckles around the table were interrupted by the door banging open. An angel in a battered tan trench coat flopped heavily into the closest chair and dropped his head into his hands. His dark hair was drenched in sweat, making it curl at the nape of his neck, his feathers were twisted and bent and one of his wings drooped awkwardly onto the floor. He looked like he had fought his way out of a hurricane.

"Rough day, Cassie?" Gabriel asked.

The newcomer grunted.

The other angels exchanged glances. Hannah stood up to pour him a cup of coffee and pushed the cup at him. "Here, looks like you could use it," she said sympathetically.

He raised his head to offer her a weak smile and curled his hands around the warm mug. "Don't suppose we have anything stronger?"

Esther winced. "That bad, huh?"

"I'm exhausted," he confessed. He sipped at his drink and let his eyes flutter closed. He looked about ready to fall asleep at the table – and angels weren't supposed to need sleep.

"This is the first time we've seen you in here all week," Anna said, frowning. "Haven't you been taking your breaks?"

"Haven't had the chance."

"Castiel, you know the rules. When they sleep, you go on break. You'll run yourself ragged otherwise."

"I know. This is the first time he's slept. Last time he tried I had to wake him up again because there was a hex bag hidden in his pillow."

"Didn't he start the witch hunt last Wednesday?"

Castiel nodded tiredly. "He only managed to kill the last of the coven an hour ago. He was running on fumes by the end of it."

Balthazar gave a low whistle. "Boy am I glad I didn't get assigned to a hunter. How many times have you had to save his life?"

"Balthazar, I don't even remember how many times I've had to save his life _this week_. He attracts more trouble than any human I've ever known, and when he's not in trouble he goes looking for it. When Mary Winchester prayed for an angel to watch over her son, I saw a cute little boy with innocent green eyes and a flop of blonde hair and I thought it was going to be my easiest assignment yet. Then she died and ever since that night, it has taken every ounce of skill and strength I possess to keep that boy alive."

"I guess I got the easier brother," Gabriel said. "Sam was more than willing to jump at the chance to go to college when I arranged for that scholarship for him."

"As long as his father is hunting, Dean won't even consider giving it up. And even if he wasn't concerned with keeping his father safe, there will always be people in need of saving. He won't abandon them."

"It is impossible to save everyone," Ezekiel said. "Every guardian here knows that."

"He knows that, too. But it won't stop him from trying."

"So while he's running around recklessly trying to protect every poor sod who stumbles into the path of a monster, you're supposed to fly after him and make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

Castiel took another long sip of his coffee. "That about sums it up," he sighed.

"Maybe you should apply to have a second guardian assigned to his case," Hannah suggested. "You could alternate shifts, get some proper rest."

Castiel shook his head. "It's fine, I can handle it. Besides, if I wasn't watching him over him constantly I think I would be more stressed than I already am."

Gabriel smirked. "Aw, Cassie doesn't want to share."

"I made a promise to his mother, that's all."

"Uh huh. Face it, Cassie, you _like_ him."

"I admire his courage and his convictions. He's alright, as far as humans go."

Anna frowned. "If you are becoming too close to the human in your charge-"

Castiel flashed a glare towards Gabriel. "I respect him for the work he does. It is nothing more."

"If you are certain."

"I am."

Anna's gaze lingered on him for a few moments longer before she nodded.

The break room settled back into a buzz of general conversation – one angel had prevented an alarm clock from going off so his charge wouldn't be on the bus that would be involved in a collision, another pulled a plug from the wall before her charge dropped her hair dryer in the sink full of water, another made sure his charge's phone battery died before he could step blithely into oncoming traffic.

Castiel nursed his coffee quietly, the glazed look in his eyes testament to how tired he was. But barely five minutes had passed before he suddenly snapped back to attention and stood up. "I have to go."

"What? Why?"

"Dean is having a nightmare."

Balthazar rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, Cas, I'm sure Dean can cope for one night. You need your rest."

There was a stubborn set to Castiel's jaw. "So does he, and he isn't going to get it if he's dreaming about the fire that killed his mother. One of the witches threw a burning hex bag at him that caught his clothes alight. I snuffed it out quickly but I should have known he'd have a flashback."

"Castiel, you can't coddle him," Ezekiel said.

"His father is going to call him in four hours with a lead on a werewolf case. If he doesn't get some sleep now, his reflexes will be dulled and he'll end up with his heart ripped out of his chest. I'm going." He stared defiantly at them all, daring anyone to disagree with him. When no one did, he turned on his heel and left in a flare of feathers.

"Kid's got it bad," Gabriel muttered under his breath. But he excused himself from the break room, checked briefly on Sam who was snoring softly next to his girlfriend, perfectly content, and then flew off to Wisconsin to give John Winchester a hand with the werewolf in Dean's stead.

When the job was done, he fluttered into Dean's motel room, briefly startling Cas who was sitting at his bedside. "I bought you a few more hours," he reported. "I'm sure Dean will go looking for his own hunt when he wakes up, but you're good for now."

Castiel stared at him. "You didn't have to do that."

Gabriel shrugged. "I was bored."

Castiel wore a knowing look but didn't call him on it. "Thank you."

Gabriel nodded and turned to leave. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the gentle way Cas brushed a strand of hair off Dean's forehead. His expression was soft, his dedication absolute.

Cas always did have too much heart. It was going to get him in trouble someday, but Gabriel knew there wasn't a force on Heaven or Earth capable of tearing him away from Dean Winchester.

Gabriel made a silent vow to look out for them both, and left Cas to it.


	29. Perdition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the season 9 finale

Castiel was never meant to lead.

As a foot soldier of Heaven, he had excelled at following the orders given to him by his superiors. He lived a life of blind obedience and it was simple, easy.

But he had begun to doubt, and then to question, and finally to think for himself. He embraced the concept of 'Free Will' only to discover that it had been reserved for humans for a reason. Castiel did not handle the responsibility of having freedom and choice very well and he made a lot of mistakes, but he took consolation from the fact that he had helped to avert the Apocalypse.

As the humans were fond of saying, he should have quit while he was ahead.

Instead, Castiel had taken it upon himself to become the new Sherriff in Heaven, then the leader of the opposition, and then the new God. Later, he had thought he could drag his brothers back to Heaven and act as a mediator as they were forced to talk out their differences. He had even thought it was a good idea to lead an army against Metatron.

It had just been one disaster after another. Despite having the best intentions, pursuing the highest ideals and truly believing that he was doing the right thing, Castiel's every attempt to take on the mantle of leadership had resulted in chaos, destruction and death.

He should have learned his lesson by now. He wasn't cut out for this. He was just an angel, and a poor example of one. He had no right to lead.

Yet here he was, leading the remnant of the Heavenly Host. His brothers and sisters were all looking to him for guidance now that Metatron was imprisoned and all of their other leaders were dead or gone.

This was not what he wanted. Nor was he what they needed.

But there was nothing left for him on Earth, so in Heaven he would stay. And he knew that as long as he was here the Angels would follow him.

He did what he had to. He buried himself in his work, building a clear chain of command, delegating important tasks and overseeing the restoration of Heaven. Any jobs that involved returning to Earth – answering prayers, gathering the remainder of the Fallen, maintaining the world's fragile ecosystem and watching over humanity – he left to Hannah and her team to manage.

He couldn't bear to return there, or even to look down upon it. It hurt too much. It reminded him of his failure and what it had cost.

It reminded him of Dean.

So he pulled the flag of Heaven more tightly around himself and tried to view the Angel's return home as the successful completion of his mission.

But Metatron's words echoed in his head. _And for what? … one man._

There was no point in denying it. Everything Castiel had done from the moment he entered Hell in search of the Righteous Man until now had been to save Dean, to help Dean, to seek forgiveness from Dean, to defend Dean, to make Dean happy, and to convince Dean that he deserved to be saved.

Except, Castiel hadn't saved him.

Dean was dead.

And Castiel had lost more than his purpose. He had lost the one true friend he had ever had.

Dean was _dead._

Castiel knew no other way to cope than to stay as far away as possible from the memories Earth held and to pretend that he had found renewed purpose in commanding Heaven.

Sometimes, he managed to convince the other angels that he was okay, but he could never quite convince himself. And they glimpsed the truth in those moments when they would turn to seek his counsel and find that he was out wandering the fields of Heaven alone. They assumed he was grieving, and they were right. But he was also searching.

Searching for one soul in particular.

Searching for Dean.

They had re-opened the doors of Heaven, allowing passage back and forth for the angels but also freeing the human souls that had been trapped in the veil.

Dean was the Righteous Man. He was here, in Heaven, Castiel was sure of it. If he could find him, maybe they could make their peace. Maybe Castiel's guilt would ease. Maybe he wouldn't feel so lonely anymore.

But Castiel's search was in vain.

He looked everywhere. The Winchesters' Heaven was empty, abandoned. Ash had seen no sign of him. He was not sharing a corner of Heaven with his parents or Bobby and his wife or Ellen and Jo or anyone else he had known in life and could have been reunited with in death. Castiel branched out, searching through every single version of paradise the billions of human souls in residence here had generated.

He never found Dean, which could only mean one thing.

Dean's soul had never reached Heaven.

In that moment of clarity, purpose reawakened within Castiel.

Maybe he wasn't born a leader. But he knew who he was, who he had always been. He was the angel who gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition.

He had done it once and he would do it again. He would do it a thousand times if he had to.

He was _not_ going to let Dean rot down there. He was going to save him.

Ignoring the protests from the other angels, ignoring his weakening Grace, ignoring the danger of taking on an entire army of demons alone, Castiel dove straight into Hell.

He fought his way through fire, brimstone and the reek of death, through blood and screams, through hell hounds and demons. He fought to the deepest, darkest depths of the Pit and, at long last, he found Dean.

But Dean wasn't in chains. He wasn't on the rack. He wasn't being tortured and he wasn't even the one doing the torturing.

Cas, exhausted and confused, faltered at the sight of the man he thought he had come here to save. "Dean…?"

A slow smile curved Dean's lips. He rose from his throne of twisted bone and closed the distance between them, scattering demons in his wake. He came right up to Cas, ignoring the angel's instinctive flinch back, standing so they were barely inches apart.

"Dean-"

Dean hushed him with a finger to his lips. Cas swallowed nervously and Dean watched his throat bob before his gaze tracked slowly up to stare deeply into Castiel's eyes.

"Hey, Cas."

"Dean, what… what is going on?"

Dean tilted his head to the side, looking at him curiously. "Sam didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

For a long moment Dean said nothing, just kept staring at him with all of the intense focus Cas usually afforded him. Despite a deep sense of foreboding, Cas was entranced. He couldn't look away.

In the end, it was Dean who blinked first.

When he opened his eyes, Cas staggered back in horror.

"No. No! Dean-"

His eyes were black.

Dean was a demon.

"No. No, no, no, no, no. Dean-"

"What's the matter, Cas?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Dean, I am so sorry. I came here to _save_ you!"

"Cas." Dean placed his hand on the angel's shoulder and squeezed gently in a familiar gesture of comfort. "You don't understand."

Cas looked into the black eyes of his best friend, anguish and revulsion roiling through his vessel at the realisation that Metatron was right.

Dean leaned in closer, whispering the truth in Castiel's ear. "I don't want to be saved."

Castiel's legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed to the floor, grief crashing over him. Everything he had done, all for one man.

But Dean Winchester was dead.

And the demon walked away, leaving Cas alone.


	30. Icing on the cake

Their latest hunt required tuxedos, and Cas was not complaining. When Dean emerged from their room he was tugging irritably at the collar of the pristine-white shirt, but Cas just let his eyes run over the length of him and an appreciative smile curved his lips. "Well hello, handsome."

Dean's answering smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and he barely responded to the kiss Cas pressed to his lips.

Cas pulled back. "Dean? What is it?"

"Nothing," he lied. "Come on, we have to go. Sam will be mad if we're late. He doesn't want to tend bar any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Dean, we made a promise that we would be honest with each other. Tell me what's wrong. If I upset you somehow, I want to fix it."

"It's nothing."

Cas stared levelly at him.

Dean dropped his gaze. He fidgited with the buttons of his shirt. "Just... You know I'm not going to look like this forever, right?"

Cas frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably. "I know I'm - well, people have said - I mean, some girls, and guys I guess, think I'm - ah, good-looking?"

"You're the most beautiful human I have ever met," Cas replied honestly.

Dean flushed. "Um. Right. Except, the thing is... I'm getting older. I've probably already passed my prime. After a while I'm going to start looking different. I'll - have wrinkles, and with my drinking habits I'll probably end up with a beer gut, and my hair will turn grey or fall out... I won't look like this anymore." He gestured helplessly at his well-toned figure. "But you, on the other hand - you're immortal. You're going to look like -" His gaze raked over Cas and he licked his lips involuntarily. "-like that. Forever, or for as long as you want to, anyway. While I shrivel."

"Humans age. I know that."

"But if I - Cas, I won't be attractive anymore."

"Why?"

"Because - because I'll look different."

Cas was confused. "Why should your looks have any impact on how attractive you are?"

"Because that's the first thing you see. That's what you're drawn to."

"Your body was not the first thing I saw, Dean. I saw your soul. It was shadowed and bleeding, but it shone with a light more pure than any other human I have encountered."

Dean swallowed.

"Why do you think I spend so much time looking into your eyes? They are the windows to your soul. I see your essence, Dean. I see who you really are. And I love you. Your current appearance is just 'icing on the cake'. Even without the icing, you taste just as good."

Despite the insecurities he had just laid bare, a laugh bubbled out of Dean's throat. "Nice innuendo there, buddy."

Castiel's brows drew together as he tried to work out what he had said. His cheeks coloured. "You know what I mean."

"I guess so." He still didn't quite sound convinced.

Cas tried a different tactic. "Dean, do you love me for what I look like?"

"What? No. That's not - I mean, it was Jimmy's body, originally. It's yours now, and it suits you, but you're so much more than that. You always have been. I love you because - you're _you_."

Cas smiled. "Exactly. But we can still enjoy the forms we are in while we have them." He curved a hand around Dean's ass and gave it a squeeze.

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Oh, if that's how you want to play it-" He slid his hands up under Castiel's shirt.

Cas gasped as Dean's fingers worked their magic. "Aren't we - ah - didn't you say we - we're late?"

Dean leaned in, his breath ghosting over Castiel's ear. "Yeah. We're gonna be real late."

Cas wasn't complaining.


	31. The Ultimate Enigma

"So, this friend of yours… Cas. Tell me about him."

"He's… hard to describe. I've known him for – god, has it been 9 years already? – but sometimes I feel like I don't know him at all. Just when I think I've got him pegged he goes and does something completely…

"Like one minute he'll be messing up pop culture references like he's never set foot on this planet before and the next he'll be talking about the most significant moments in human history like he lived them.

"Or he'll seem so small and sad sitting off in some corner somewhere hunched in on himself like he's got the weight of the world on his shoulders, and then he'll stand up and somehow seem larger than life.

"He can charm little old ladies and bond with cute kids and comfort grieving widows and sooth crying babies, but when he wants to he can scare grown men shitless. He's totally hopeless when it comes to women though.

"He can be all holier than thou and self-righteous and proud and act like he is a giant among ants, but he can also seem so lost and unsure of himself, second-guessing his every decision and wallowing in guilt when things go to crap.

"He always tries to do the right thing, but he's so stubborn and wilful and doesn't _listen,_ honestly he's like a _child_ sometimes, and he might not have a monopoly on bad choices but some of the things he has done have had like apocalyptic consequences. Not that I'm one to talk. And he's the type to try his best to make amends or die trying.

"He can be very serious, with a no nonsense attitude and this 'I don't have time for your crap' expression that he could patent I swear, but he can be utterly ridiculous too – don't ever mention bees in his general vicinity, or try to take him to a brothel, or let him anywhere near animals in general… especially cats and guniea pigs. He talks to them, like he'll have an actual conversation, I kid you not. But oh man, getting him drunk is the most hilarious thing ever. I don't know if he knows how funny he can be – just in some of the things he'll say or do – like is he doing it deliberately? Does he just have a really good poker face or what? It's probably a little of both.

"He's a total nerd too, you know. With the tax accountant get up – he seriously has no variation in outfits, I think he has changed it once in the whole time I've known him, though he's switching up the ties every so often now – and the way he talks like he swallowed a dictionary, and the way he takes everything so literally. Of course he knows everything about everything except for all the stuff to do with human interaction, where he's totally awkward and embarrassing but kind of hopelessly endearing at the same time. Women seem to lap it up for some bizarre reason.

"He can seem so harmless, and then out of the blue he'll do something that reminds me just how powerful he is. He can be friggin' _terrifying._ I've met a lot of dudes over the years who thought they were tough, but Cas could make the lot of them pee their pants with a single look. He was a soldier, you know. He was a commander and a general – he was the leader of his entire race of people once or twice, and at one point it looked like he was going to rule the world. But even when he's not in charge – and to be honest, leading isn't exactly his strong point – he is still a total bad ass and I forget that sometimes.

"He's like… the ultimate enigma. He doesn't want to hurt anyone, he doesn't want to fight, but he is the best damn warrior I've ever known. Seeing him in action – he's like a one-man army. I've seen him take on friggin' _monsters_ by himself without breaking a sweat. Anyone who tries to stand in his way realises pretty damn fast that they messed with the wrong guy.

"The weirdest thing is… He could do anything, be anything he wanted to be, and he chooses to hang around me and my brother.

"He has saved my life more times than I could count. He betrayed his family and sacrificed everything he had ever known because I asked him to. He has bled and fought and died for me.

"Except for Sam, there's no one I'd rather have watching my back in a fight. There's no one I trust more. When I need him he always comes through.

"When he's around, watching over me, I feel safe. And hell, if I'm honest with myself I enjoy his company. He's a good friend. My best friend, actually. Kinda my only friend a lot of the time.

"He's gentle and he listens and he always knows exactly what to say, or when to say nothing at all. He sees me, he _knows_ me, in a way no one else does, and he accepts me for exactly who I am. Sometimes the way he looks at me makes me feel like some kind of hero, like I'm worthy of respect and admiration and l- like I deserve to be saved.

"I'm not exactly a poster boy for self-worth, never have been, and to have someone like Cas believe in me the way he does… it means more than I can say.

"Mind you, it hasn't always been sunshine and roses between us. We've hit some rough patches where things got dark, real dark, and I didn't know if we'd ever be able to come back from it.

"But we're still here. We're still fighting for each other. He has stuck around in a way that no one else in my life ever has.

"He's… well, he's Cas. And he means a heck of a lot to me."

"Have you told him any of this?"

Dean smiled a little. "I don't have to. He knows."


	32. Healing Touch

Cas had never felt so helpless in his entire life. Losing his Grace had been a terrible blow, but it hadn’t stopped him from hunting – he still had his angel blade and Dean’s shotguns and his fists if it came right down to it. But he couldn’t fight this. The monster was attacking Dean from the inside out, and there was nothing Cas could do to stop it.

Dean groaned and tossed restlessly in sweat-soaked sheets.

Cas felt a pang in his chest. He hovered by Dean’s bedside, wishing that there was something – anything – he could do to take Dean’s pain away. But he was just a ‘baby in a trenchcoat’. Utterly useless.

Unable to bear it any longer, Cas fled the room and took sanctuary in the kitchen. Normally he would dig out a left-over piece of pie or a beer for Dean, but Dean wasn’t eating. He could barely swallow a mouthful of water without vomiting it back up.

Cas pressed his forehead against the fridge door and tried desperately to hold himself together.

“Cas? You okay?”

Sam.

Cas turned away from the fridge and tried to pull on a convincing mask. “I’m fine.”

“You look terrible,” Sam said. “Have you slept at all since this started?”

Cas shook his head. He could feel exhaustion dragging at him, but he couldn’t sleep while Dean was suffering.

Sam sighed, but instead of sending him to bed, he pressed a cup of coffee into his hands.

Cas curled his fingers around the heated mug and took a sip of the bitter liquid. He wasn’t a fan of the taste, but he couldn’t deny the impact that caffeine had on his energy levels. “Thank you.”

“Cas, he’s going to be fine. You know that, right?”

“I’ve never seen him like this. He’s _miserable_ , Sam. His nose is red, his eyes are puffy, his throat is so raw he can barely talk…”

“That’s a blessing for us,” Sam quipped, his lips quirking into a smile.

Cas stared at him.

“Okay, not the time for jokes. But seriously, Cas, he’s just sick. It happens. He’ll feel like crap for a few days, and then he’ll get better.”

“How can you be so sure? Grievous injuries barely faze him, but this-”

“Everyone gets grumpy when they’re sick, Cas. It’s perfectly normal.”

“But I just want to fix it. If I had my Grace, I would be able to fix it.”

“Oh.” Sam’s face softened in sympathy. “Cas, we just have to let this thing run its course. But there are things you can do to help him feel better.”

Cas brightened up at that. “Really?”

Fifteen minutes later, Cas nudged his way through Dean’s bedroom door, his arms laden with supplies.

“Cas?” Dean’s bleary eyes blinked up at him. His cheeks were flushed but the rest of his skin was drastically pale and he was shivering.

“I’m going to look after you,” Cas promised.

“You don’t have to-”

Cas silenced him by popping a couple of ice-chips in his mouth. “Suck on those, it will sooth your throat.”

Surprisingly, Dean did as he was told.

“I have drawn a bath for you. The internet says the lukewarm water can reduce your fever, but I’m going to give you some Tylenol as well.”

Dean weakly grasped the edge of his blanket and dragged it over his head. “Don’t wanna move,” he mumbled.

“Imagine how nice clean sheets and fresh pyjamas will feel,” Cas coaxed.

Reluctantly, Dean let Cas help him out of the bed. He wobbled on unsteady legs but Cas slipped an arm around his waist and bore most of his weight as they made their way to the bathroom.

“Unghh,” Dean moaned, dropping his head onto Castiel’s shoulder.

Cas hugged him a little tighter. “Almost there.”

He helped Dean get undressed, and it was a sign of how unwell Dean was feeling that he didn’t make a quip about Cas trying to get him naked. He got Dean settled into the bath and made to leave, but when he saw Dean’s pitiful attempts to scrub at his skin with the sponge, he decided that the sheets could wait.

“Here, let me,” he said gently, kneeling down beside the tub. He took the sponge and let it soak up the water before running it over Dean’s chest and down his arms.

Dean sighed and let his eyes flutter closed.

Cas swallowed, overwhelmed by the intimacy of this moment. That Dean would trust him to do this meant more to him than he could possibly express. He didn’t try to put it into words, but he hoped that Dean could feel it through his touch. He washed away the taint of sickness and sweat on his skin, then massaged out the worst of the ache from his muscles. He massaged shampoo into Dean’s hair and gently scooped water into his hand to rinse the bubbles out.

“Thanks Cas,” Dean exhaled. His eyelids were drooping and his head lolled.

“Okay, time to get you out of there,” Cas said. He hoisted Dean out of the tub and wrapped him in a large towel. Dean slumped, boneless, against him.

Cas practically carried Dean back along the corridor, and he was relieved to find that Sam had already changed the sheets. He sat Dean on the edge of the mattress and coaxed some Tylenol down his throat before bundling him up in the softest blanket he had been able to find.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asked.

Dean hummed, leaning into him.

Cas helped Dean lie back and rearranged the pillows for him. “Rest. When you wake up I’ll have some chicken soup ready for you.”

He moved towards the door but Dean caught his hand.

“Stay?” Dean whispered.

“Um, okay,” Cas said awkwardly. He perched on the edge of the mattress.

Dean shook his head and tugged him closer.

Hesitantly, Cas toed off his shoes and climbed on the bed. He sat with his back against the headboard and stretched his legs out in front of him.

Dean shifted to rest his head on Castiel’s stomach and curled up against him. He made a soft contented sound and closed his eyes.

“You were right,” he mumbled. “I feel better.”

The tight knot in Castiel’s chest eased at his words. He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to Dean’s forehead. “Glad I could help.”

 


	33. The Screw Up

Sam was reading quietly, minding his own business, when Dean came bursting through his bedroom door.

 

“Sam!”

 

There wasn’t much that could put such a look of abject panic on his brother’s face. Instinctively, Sam went for a gun. “What, what is it?”

 

“Sammy, I screwed up.”

 

Sam was still waiting for the crisis to hit; he looked behind his brother but he didn’t see any sign that a monster was on his heels. “Are we talking ‘I just started another apocalypse’ or ‘I burned my grilled cheese’?”

 

“Sam, I think I just ruined everything. He was my best friend – hell, my only friend. Everyone else is dead, because that’s what happens to people who are friends with us, they get killed, not that Cas hasn’t been killed a few times, but he always came back and I thought he might actually be the one person who stayed, but now he’s gone and it’s my fault.”

 

Sam blinked. “Dean, once more with clarity.”

 

Dean sucked in a breath, but it didn’t seem to calm him. “Cas is gone. And I don’t – I don’t think he’s coming back.”

 

Sam frowned. Bailing used to be the angel’s go-to response for any conflict situation, but since he lost his wings he had been learning to work things through in person. For him to up and leave, something drastic must have gone down. "What happened?"

 

“Cas, he- it came out of nowhere, man, how was I supposed to react? But I think I offended him – no, I know I did, god, the look on his face – but he took off before I could even try to fix it. He just left.” Dean raked his fingers through his hair. “Damn it! I didn't mean to- he just took me by surprise. If he had talked to me first, maybe I could have- hell, I don't even know- but he didn't give me any warning! He just laid one on me and-”

 

“He kissed you?”

 

Dean flushed scarlet. "Yeah."

 

“Wow. Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Dean’s voice hit a pitch Sam hadn’t heard from him since puberty. “How is that okay? Cas, 'angel of the Lord' Cas, my _best friend_  Cas, friggin' kissed me! What the hell was he thinking?"

 

“I think it was a long time coming, to be honest."

 

Dean stared at him. "Excuse me?"

 

“Well, I wasn’t sure he would ever work up the nerve, but I can’t say it comes as any great surprise.”

 

“Sam, I don’t think you’re understanding me. Cas _kissed_  me. On the mouth.”

 

“That’s usually what people do when they like someone. He was a bit slow on the uptake, but he got there in the end.”

 

“Cas doesn’t like me!”

 

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Then why has he stuck around this long?”

 

“I don’t – okay, so maybe he tolerates me, us, as friends but he doesn’t _like_ , like me.”

 

“Pretty sure he does. Kissing you is a fairly strong indication, don’t you think?”

 

“But – Sam, why aren’t you more shocked by this?”

 

“Because I knew how he felt about you.”

 

"You _knew_? Why didn't you tell me?"

 

"I thought it was obvious."

 

"Not to me!"

 

"Dean, how could you possibly miss it? Haven't you seen the way he looks at you? Haven't you noticed how close he stands?"

 

"He doesn't get the whole personal space thing."

 

"Dean, he never does it with anyone else."

 

Dean seemed floored by that for a moment. "But-"

 

"Come on, man. The signs are all there. Everything he has done since we met him has been for you.”

 

“That’s not true.”

 

“Dean, he didn’t betray Heaven because it was the right thing to do. He didn’t have a concept of right and wrong back then. It was either follow orders or disobey, and he chose the latter because _you_  asked him to. There are several hundred other examples I could give you, but what it boils down to is that he tries to either do what you would do, or what he thinks you would want him to do, or what he needs to do to keep you safe. He doesn’t always make the right call, but he tries.”

 

“That doesn’t mean he likes me like _that._ He’s just – a good friend.”

 

“A good friend who is in love with you,” Sam said bluntly. “Dean, trust me. The way he looks at you – that’s the way I used to look at Jess.”

 

Dean swallowed and fell silent. He knew Sam wouldn’t mention her name unless he was serious.

 

Sam smiled softly, sadly. “I think Cas was in love with you before he even realised what love was."

 

"But… Sam, it doesn't make any sense. Why? Why would he lo- why would he feel that way? About me? I mean, this is me we're talking about."

 

Sam knew that there was a wealth of insecurity and self-loathing beneath those words. “Maybe you should ask Cas.”

 

Dean looked petrified by the very idea. But if anyone could convince Dean of his worth, it was the angel who had had believed that he deserved to be saved even when he was torturing souls in Hell, and had continued to save him over and over again.

 

“The real question is, how do you feel about him?"

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Sam stood up and patted his brother on the shoulder. “Just… think about it. And then call him.”

 

“I can’t! Sam, even if I – I destroyed any chance I had with him. Fuck. I- I think I- I might actually- but it’s too late. He’s gone, because when he kissed me I didn’t kiss him back. I should have, but I – god, I _pushed him away_.”

 

“Don’t you think that maybe he’s afraid he is the one who ruined everything between you? He’s the one who crossed the line from friendship to something more. That’s a pretty big risk to take.”

 

Dean looked stunned, as though the idea genuinely hadn’t occurred to him.

 

“Please just call him.”

 

“Uh. Yeah. Okay. I should – but – what do I say?”

 

“I don’t know, man, but three words come to mind. They generally work fairly well in situations like this.”

 

Dean’s eyes boggled. “Sam, I can’t-”

 

“Okay, dude, chill. Just ask for a do-over.”

 

Dean thought on that for a moment. A small smile curved his lips. “I can do that.”


	34. Heartbeat

Considering how long it took for Cas to become comfortable with physical contact, Dean had been surprised to discover that Cas liked to cuddle. Whether they were coming down off a post-coital high or simply collapsing into bed after an exhausting hunt, Cas would always slot his body alongside Dean's, tangle their legs together and rest his head against Dean's chest.

He wouldn't sleep. Angels didn't need to. At first Dean thought Cas was just keeping him company until he nodded off and then would slip away to read or watch the stars or do whatever else he did to entertain himself while ordinary people slept.

But when he woke in the morning Cas was always there, still wrapped around him like he never intended to let go.

After a time, Dean noticed that Cas positioned himself so that his ear was pressed over Dean's heart.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked him once.

"Listening," Cas replied.

Dean puzzled over this and decided that Cas must spend the night meditating or something. Maybe the steady rhythm of his heartbeat helped Cas to concentrate. Find his 'zen' or whatever.

One night, after a particularly grisly hunt that had ripped through a neighbourhood and left a string of mangled corpses in its wake, Dean was struggling to fall asleep. He couldn't seem to relax; every time he closed his eyes the image of a bloodied body would flash through his mind and his eyes would snap open again. He knew they had ganked the monster and that the people were safe, but he kept feeling a bolt of adrenaline, like he had to go back and keep fighting or more people were going to die.

After a fruitless hour of trying to find sleep and failing epically, Dean thought maybe Cas was onto a good idea. Rather than move him from his favourite position, Dean just slipped a hand up the angel's shirt in a quest to find his heartbeat.

He was startled to discover that Castiel's pulse was racing.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" His voice sounded normal, but his heart was pounding away beneath Dean's fingertips.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your heart is going a mile a minute."

"Yes. It often does when we lie like this."

Dean blinked. "Oh. Um. Are you - aroused?" He felt a flush crawl up his neck at the thought.

"No. I could be, if you wanted-"

"Ah, no, that's okay. Are you still thinking about the case?"

"We were successful."

"Right." Dean wished he could set it aside so easily - he would usually rely on alcohol to wash away the taint of a hunt like that, but the angel's quiet concern about his drinking habits had led him to cut back quite a lot. "So what is it, then?"

"Nothing important."

"Cas, your heart should not be racing like this when you're at rest. If you were human I'd be taking you to the hospital right now."

"I'm not human," Cas said softly.

Dean frowned. There was something different in his voice that time. "Cas, what's wrong?" He felt the slight shrug of Castiel's shoulders. "Come on, talk to me."

"I'm not human," he said again. "This heart could beat indefinitely if I wanted it to."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why-"

"Yours won't."

Dean's words died in his throat.

"You're human," Cas continued. "On average, a human heart will only beat 3 billion times. I've already missed so many of yours. And one day they will run out."

Dean swallowed, beginning to realise the real reason why Cas curled up against his chest every chance that he got. It wasn't calming him. He was freaking out, listening to the clock of Dean's life ticking away.

"I'm immortal. I have lived for millennia and unless something kills me I will continue to live until the universe burns out. But you won't."

Dean wished he could promise Cas 'forever', the way that other couples would, but Cas was right. At best, Dean only had 40 or so years left to live, and as a hunter his life expectancy was far lower than that. To a celestial being whose existence spanned all of time itself, Dean's life was barely a blip on the radar.

"I understand now why they warned me not to grow too close to the humans in my charge. But I didn't listen. I couldn't. And now you're everything to me and I can't imagine life without you. It scares me, Dean, because I'll blink and you'll be gone. What am I supposed to do when that happens? How am I supposed to go on without the only thing that ever mattered to me?"

Dean didn't know how to answer. He wasn't exactly the poster boy for coping with loss and moving on with his life. He had done everything within his power to keep Sam alive, and when that failed he had done everything within the supernatural's power to bring him back from the dead, because he wasn't prepared to live without him.

Death was supposed to be a part of life. Dean had never been able to accept that when it came to Sam. He tried to imagine living for centuries after his brother was dead and buried - and he couldn't. He would rather die himself.

But the thought of Cas committing suicide because of him was equally unthinkable.

"You'll be fine," Dean tried. "After a while you'll forget all about me."

Cas shifted to look up at him. "Never," he whispered. "I could never forget you. I don't want to. You gave my life meaning. You showed this soldier what was really worth fighting for. You believed in me when I had lost all faith. You taught me how to love. In all my years of life, nothing has ever meant more to me than you, and nothing ever will again."

Dean stared into fathomless blue eyes. It was incomprehensible that an angel, an _angel_ , could look at him like this, could hold him like he was something precious, could value his life over everything else in all creation. If he tried to protest that he didn't deserve to be loved like this, Cas would insist that he did.

Dean could never see himself the way that Cas saw him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Castiel's brow creased slightly.

"For doing this to you." He hadn't realised the consequences of asking an angel to Fall for him. "I'm going to break your heart, and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm sorry."

Tears glimmered in Castiel's eyes. "Don't be," he said softly. He arched up and pressed his lips against Dean's in a gentle kiss.

When he pulled away there was a silent tear slipping down Dean's face. Cas cupped his cheek and brushed the trail of moisture away with his thumb. "Better to have loved and lost," he whispered. "I have no regrets."

He settled back into his usual position, ear resting against Dean's chest, an arm curved around his waist.

Beneath his fingertips, Dean could feel Castiel's heart rate settle.

He was at peace with this. Dean decided that he would be, too. And they would make the most of whatever time they had left together.


	35. Overboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siren!Cas Pirate!Dean AU

Cas is a lonely siren who was ostracised for refusing to lure sailors to their deaths. The waters where he resides are eerily silent. He usually ignores the shadow of ships passing overhead, but one day the wind dies and a ship gets stuck. Late that night, in a strange turn-around, Cas hears someone singing. Curious, he ascends to the surface and can’t help but stare at the most beautiful human he has ever seen.

Dean is gazing out over the still waters that are inky-black in the darkness, when he notices a shimmer of light. He takes a closer look and realises that blue eyes are staring back at him.

Cas freezes, panicked at being seen. He tries to restrain his power, but the pirate captain seems captivated by him despite his best efforts.

Dean knows that he must be looking at a Siren, but the ethereal creature doesn’t sing or swim closer and Dean feels no urge to fling himself overboard. But he is frustrated that the siren remains far beyond his reach.

“Hey,” Dean calls softly. The creature startles and looks ready to flee. Dean finds that he doesn’t want the siren to vanish without a trace. “I won’t hurt you.”

It shouldn’t be possible, but Cas is drawn in by those green eyes. The human is looking at him like he is something beautiful, precious. Something to be treasured, not feared. He should know better, but he glides towards the ship anyway.

Dean’s heart leaps in his chest at the siren’s approach. The creature is even more stunning up close, with a tangle of dark hair framing his face and pale skin shining in the moonlight. The long column of his throat draws Dean’s gaze down to a perfectly sculptured collarbone and there are tantalising glimpses of a firm chest as the creature bobs in the water. Just beneath the surface, the light catches on the flick of a tail; the scales glitter like sapphires. “Wow,” Dean breathes. Unconsciously, he leans over the edge, trying to reach him.

Cas lurches backwards, splashing water up into the human’s face.

Dean splutters. “What was that for?”

“Don’t fall in,” Cas says.

And damn, if that deep voice isn’t the sexiest sound Dean has ever heard. But Dean realises what the siren has just said to him, and he’s confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be inviting me to join you for a midnight swim?”

Cas winces. “I don’t do that.”

Dean has heard a lot of stories about sirens, and they all ended the same way – with some hapless sailor being dragged down into the depths. “Why not?”

Cas raises his chin slightly. “I didn’t choose to be what I am. But I can choose what I do, and I’d rather not kill people.” The last time he said those words, he had been exiled. The human just looks awed.

“That’s… very noble.” He blushes at his own words, and Cas fears that he has unintentionally bewitched the poor man.

“I need to go,” Cas says sadly. He begins to sink beneath the water.

“No, wait-!” Dean lunges forward with an arm outstretched. He loses his balance. He falls.

The shock of sudden immersion in ice-cold water stuns him. He forgets how to swim. He is surrounded by darkness and he has no idea which way is up. He struggles frantically against the ocean’s hold, but she is an unforgiving mistress and he realises that he is about to drown.

A hand grips his shoulder and pulls.

His head breaks the surface and he gasps in a desperate lungful of air. He coughs and tries to blink water out of his eyes.

The siren is inches away from him, and his expression is halfway between concern and annoyance. “I told you not to fall in.”

Dean realises that the siren’s steady grip on his arm is keeping him afloat, and that his skin is surprisingly warm for a creature that lives in water. Their chests are almost touching, and the freezing temperatures should have turned him numb but instead Dean can feel tingles all over. Suddenly giddy, he laughs. “I fell for you.”

Cas glares at the foolish human. “This isn’t funny. You could have died.”

“You saved me.” Emboldened, Dean thrusts out a hand. “I’m Captain Dean Winchester.”

Frowning, Cas shakes the offered hand while still maintaining his grip on the human’s shoulder so he doesn’t sink again. “Hello, Dean.” It has been a long time, but he thinks that it is customary to respond in kind. “My name is Castiel.”

Dean smiles. “Hey, Cas. Nice to meet you.” He pecks a kiss to the siren’s lips.

Cas is shocked. “What are you - I’m a _siren_ , Dean.”

“Nah,” Dean says. “You’re an angel.”

Dean kisses him again. This time, Cas kisses him back.


	36. Don't Ever Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5x18 The Point of No Return: the scene in the alley goes differently when Dean brings up 2014!Cas

“I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me?”

 

Another blow sent Dean staggering backwards. Not giving him a chance to recover, Cas kicked him hard in the chest and Dean crashed into the fence. Beaten, he collapsed to the ground.

 

He couldn’t find the strength to stand. He could only watch helplessly as Cas advanced on him, fist clenched, righteous fury etched into his features.

 

Dean knew he deserved it. He had used a banishing spell on his best friend, and he was throwing away all of their efforts to find another solution to this shit show. But they didn’t know what he knew. Cas hadn’t seen what he had.

 

“I’m doing you a favour,” Dean rasped.

 

Cas paused. “Excuse me?”

 

Dean struggled to push himself up. His arms trembled beneath his weight, but he locked his elbows and matched Castiel’s glare with one of his own. “Do you want to know what happens to you if I don’t say yes to Michael?”

 

“I was never going to survive this fight. I knew that from the moment that I betrayed Heaven. But I thought it would be worth it. I thought you would be stronger.”

 

“You think this is easy for me?”

 

“You’re taking the easy way out.”

 

“I’m saying yes to a friggin’ _archangel_. I saw what happened to Raphael’s vessel, Cas. I’m signing off on some angel riding around in my skin, murdering my brother and then leaving me a drooling mess on the floor. It will be a waking nightmare and it will _destroy_  me, but the alternative is worse. I won’t let that happen. Not to you, not to anyone.”

 

“I don’t care what happens to me.”

 

“Well you should! You don’t just die, Cas. Dying is the merciful part. But first you watch your entire family pack up and leave you here alone. Your mojo drains away. You become human, trapped in this crappy mortal life while the world turns to crap around you. You’re stuck following me into one mess after another, and along the way you lose everything that you are. You become a friggin’ _drug addict_ , stoned half out of your mind and sexing up everything that moves in some vain attempt to feel _something_ , and it’s my fault, Cas. It’s all my fault. I can’t watch you turn into that. I can’t be responsible for ruining you.”

 

“You would rather be responsible for the death of half the world’s population?”

 

“That’s going to happen anyway! If not in some dramatic show down between Michael and Lucifer, then through the outbreak of the Croatoan virus. You didn’t see it, Cas, you don’t know what it was like. There was no one left. Only a handful of suckers who followed me into a suicide run at the Devil, and I fed them into the meatgrinder. I killed them. I killed _you_.” Dean’s voice broke and he looked away. Blood dripped from his nose onto the grimy floor of the alley; he watched as the red mixed with grey dust and couldn’t help but picture Cas, torn to shreds by Croats, his blood soaking into the dirt.

 

“Sometimes sacrifices are necessary. If killing Lucifer is the end result-”

 

“But that’s not what happens. You die, I die – Lucifer is the only one left standing. It isn’t worth it, Cas – it’s all for nothing. He wins. He wins, and we lose, and everyone on the fucking planet pays the price for my pigheadedness. I was the one who broke the first seal, I let Lucifer out of his cage, which means that this is all on me, all of it! You said it yourself, I am the only one who can finish this. I have to fix what I broke. I have to say yes.”

 

“We’ll find another way to stop him.”

 

“Don’t you think we tried? We fought for five years, and the best idea we came up with was the damned Colt. But even if it could kill him, _I_  couldn’t. I’m not strong enough, Cas, not as a human. But maybe with Michael on board – _maybe_  we can ice Lucifer before he destroys everything. Maybe some people can make it out of this alive.”

 

“Your brother won’t.”

 

Dean stiffened. “I know that. But I think he’d rather die than be Lucifer’s vessel for eternity. It would be a mercy killing.”

 

“He doesn’t have to say yes.”

 

“He will,” Dean sighed heavily. “We both will. It’s fate.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“Look, Cas. I’m just trying to make the best of a bad situation. I’m just one guy. I told you once before that I’m not strong enough. I can’t save the world. But maybe I can save a few people. Maybe there will be one or two of them that remember that I tried my best. Maybe the world will be able to stitch itself back together. Maybe you and your angel buddies can help to rebuild. Maybe this planet will keep on spinning. And maybe everything that Sam and I have been through, everything we sacrificed – maybe it won’t be in vain. That’s about as much as I can hope for, Cas.”

 

Cas stared down at him, his face unreadable. After a long moment, he took a step forward.

 

Dean braced himself for the next blow.

 

Instead, Cas grasped his shoulder and dragged him to his feet. “This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith in yourself. But you should know that Sam and Bobby have not given up hope. And despite this moment of weakness, I’m not ready to give up on you. So, for now, I suppose my faith will have to be sufficient for the both of us.”

 

Dean found that he was shivering, and he couldn’t seem to stop. “Cas-”

 

Castiel’s hand was a warm pressure against his arm. “Dean, I understand. What you saw in the future scared you, just as Zachariah intended. But do you remember what you said to me when I brought you back?”

 

Dean nodded uncertainly.

 

“You asked me not to change,” Cas reiterated. “Well, now it is my turn to say the same to you. Dean Winchester, you are a man who has always lived his life by his own rules. You fight the good fight, and you protect your little brother. That is who you are. Don’t ever change.”

 

Dean swallowed. “But what if I can’t-”

 

“You can,” Cas said firmly. “I believe in you.”

 

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. But when he heard the flutter of wings, he didn’t try to pull away.

 

Cas and Dean vanished from the alley, and Michael never got the invitation he was looking for.


	37. Mine

"Cas? Something wrong?"

"I was just thinking."

"About...?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Cas, how long have I known you? I know when something's up. Come on, spill."

"It's just... None of this is mine."

"What?"

"There is much I have acquired since I came to Earth, but none of it actually belongs to me. I stole this face from Jimmy. My clothing and belongings were purchased with a fake credit card. I obtained my car under a false name and a fake licence. This bunker is your inheritance as a Legacy, you just let me live here. Nothing I have is truly mine."

"That's not true."

"Dean, look around. I stole this life. I don't deserve to be here."

"Cas, Sam and I have been living off stolen credit cards our entire lives. That doesn't make us criminals. Okay, well technically it does, but it's not like we get paid for hunting monsters and stopping every apocalypse that comes along. It all balances out."

"I don't think my life has the same balance. I have taken so much and caused so much harm... I could spend centuries trying to make up for what I've done and it would never be enough. I don't feel right taking anymore. I think... I think I should go."

"What?"

"When I was living as Steve, I had very little, but I worked for what I had. It was honest. I wasn't a burden to the world anymore. Or to you."

"Cas, you're not a burden. Sam and I want you here."

"This is your home. It isn't mine."

"Yes, it is. Cas, I know I screwed up when I kicked you out of the bunker, but this is as much your home as it is ours. You are as much a hunter as we are. The world needs you to keep fighting, and I - I need you here."

"Dean..."

"You said you don't have anything. But you have me."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You wanted something that was yours. Something you had earned, something that belonged to you... Cas, I wouldn't be here if not for you. You dragged me out of hell and you have saved my life more times than I can count. But it's more than that. I don't know how to explain to you how important you are, how much you mean to me, but you should know that for a long time I've considered you my best friend. And if I was honest, I'd have to admit that I wouldn't mind if you were more than that. Because the truth is, Cas... I'm yours. In every sense of the word. If you want me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - ah, screw it, I never was good with words. Just- c'mere."

Dean pulled him into a kiss. It took Cas a few moments to get with the program, but then he spun Dean and pinned him up against the wall.

"Mine," he growled.

"Yours," Dean agreed breathlessly.

There was no more talking after that.


	38. Warmth

“You should bring a jacket.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. C’mon, Cas, we need to get a move on if we want to make it in time to see the sunset.”

Cas pulled on his coat and eyed the jacket Dean had left hanging on the hook by the door, but decided not to press the issue.

Ten minutes later they were soaring down the open highway. Dean was dutifully watching the road, but occasionally his gaze would flicker to the west, tracking the sun’s progress. Colours were already beginning to streak across the sky.

“It appears we chose an ideal evening,” Cas commented.

A smile twitched at Dean’s lips. “Looks like it.” He took the next right and gunned the engine a little as they began their mountain ascent.

The road was steep and narrow, not one that Cas would have liked to drive on his own, but Dean was in his element. He navigated expertly around each bend, his grip sure and steady on the wheel, his green eyes sparkling with the simple joy of putting his Baby through her paces. Cas would never fully understand the thrill Dean got from driving, but he imagined it was somewhat akin to his own love of flying (which, in kind, Dean found difficult to comprehend). Once, Cas had felt that travelling in a motor vehicle was frustratingly slow and horribly cramped, but he had learned to enjoy road trips, if for nothing more than the pleasure of watching Dean.

“You’re staring again,” Dean said, amusement quirking at the corner of his mouth.

Cas didn’t bother to deny it. “I’m allowed to now.”

Dean chuckled. “You’re going to milk that for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re going to have something else to look at in a minute. I know nature’s beauty will pale in comparison to my own, but we’ll give the sky points for effort.”

Cas knew that he was making a joke, but privately he had to agree that nothing in creation could ever hope to compete with Dean.

They reached a sign that read “Scenic Lookout” and Dean pulled the car into a parking bay.

Cas blinked as he took in the view through the windshield. “Wow.”

“No, no, we gotta get out and sit on the hood. That’s the only real way to watch a sunset.”

“It will be cold.”

“You have a coat.” Dean leaned over him to pop the door open, apparently forgetting that he had not brought a jacket of his own. But since he seemed unbothered by the chill air, Cas obediently exited the vehicle.

He hesitated to climb onto the hood, wary of hurting Baby, but Dean scrambled up and snagged his sleeve to pull Cas up beside him.

“There we go,” Dean said proudly. “Isn’t that better?”

It was. Without the window in the way, they had an unobstructed view of the sun slowly slipping down below the horizon. The sky was ablaze with colour, soaking the vast expanse of land below them in a golden light.

Cas had witnessed many sunsets in his lifetime, but he could not recall one as beautiful as this. Having someone by his side, sharing the moment, made it feel as though the dramatic display was just for them, like they were the only two people in the world and the universe was going out of its way to make this a night to remember.

Words couldn’t hope to describe it, and neither of them tried. Dean simply reached out and took his hand. Cas twined their fingers together and they watched until the last smudge of purple faded from the sky.

As the darkness deepened, stars began to appear. Dean leaned back against the windshield and exhaled a sigh of utter contentment.

Cas couldn’t imagine a more perfect moment.

And then Dean started shivering.

“You should have brought a jacket,” Cas said, frowning despite himself. He didn’t want the night to have to end prematurely, but he didn’t want Dean to catch a cold either.

Dean just smiled. “I probably should have. But since I didn’t, I suppose you’re just going to have to keep me warm.” He snuggled closer.

Cas wrapped an arm around him and Dean curled into his side.

“You planned this,” Cas realised.

“Maybe.” Dean tucked his head under Castiel’s chin and hummed happily.

Cas huffed. “If you wanted a cuddle you could have just asked.”

“I don’t cuddle,” Dean protested, even as he slid an arm around Castiel’s waist and settled more comfortably against his chest.

“Dean, this is cuddling.”

There was a long pause. “Okay, maybe it is. Just don’t tell Sam.”

Cas smiled fondly down at his hunter. “My lips are sealed.”


	39. Blanket

The movie credits were rolling and Dean hadn’t stirred.

Twisting awkwardly, hampered by Dean’s weight against his side, Cas reached over the arm of the sofa to turn on the lamp. Dean made a small sound of protest, turning his face into Castiel’s neck to block out the light.

“If you’re tired you should go to bed,” Cas told him.

Dean shook his head mutely, making no effort to move.

“You’re half asleep already. Come on.” Cas tried to stand, but Dean’s fingers grasped his shirt tightly and wouldn’t let go. “Dean.”

“C’mfy,” he muttered.

“You will have a sore neck in the morning if you sleep upright like this.”

Dean made a low, grumbling sound and flopped backwards so he was lying horizontally on the cushions.

“You are taller than the length of this sofa,” Cas pointed out.

“Not moving.”

Cas sighed. “Fine. I’ll get you a blanket.” He made to get up, but Dean caught his hand.

“Don’t need one.”

A tired Dean was very difficult to reason with, but Cas tried anyway. “The bunker’s ventilation system causes a draft. You’ll get cold.”

“No, I won’t.” Dean’s eyes flickered open; he looked up at Cas from beneath long lashes. “Because you’re not going anywhere.”

Cas opened his mouth to object – the sofa was hardly large enough for one grown man, let alone two – but Dean snagged the lapels of his coat and tugged him down. He ended up lying almost completely on top of Dean.

This was ridiculous. “I’m not a blanket.”

The corner of Dean’s lips lifted into an amused smile. “Could have fooled me.” He tugged on Castiel’s coat until it enveloped him more thoroughly, then closed his eyes.

“Dean.”

Dean’s only response was to wriggle into a more comfortable position.

“Dean-”

“Shh. Sleeping time.” Dean curled a hand around his waist and pressed a sleepy kiss to his cheek. “G’night, snuggle blankey.”

Cas blinked in surprise at the uncharacteristic assignment of what he understood to be a ‘pet name’. “You really must be tired,” he realised. No doubt Dean would regret this in the morning, especially if Sam walked in and found them like this, but for now there was no moving him.

Cas nudged off his shoes and shifted slightly so the sofa was bearing most of his weight but he was still draped liberally over Dean. He discovered that, despite the lack of adequate space, he was actually quite content with the arrangement. Sometimes the bed allowed for too much distance between them. It was nice to be so close and to know that neither of them were going anywhere.  
He tucked his head into the crook of Dean’s shoulder and let his eyes flutter closed.

They fell asleep with the music from the movie still playing quietly in the background.


	40. Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set sometime after season 11

“Hey, um, God? Or, I don’t know, can I – is it still okay if I call you Chuck? God, this is weird. I mean – sorry. I don’t really do this. The whole – praying thing. Which I guess you know. I only started praying when I met Cas. I guess a lot of things changed when I met him.

And they’re about to change even more. Which is why I’m calling – er, praying to you now. I need to ask you something. I just have to hope that you’re not going to smite me or something when you hear what I have to say.

Alright. Here goes. For the past year or so, Cas and I have been dating.

No fire from Heaven? Okay. Cool.

Thing is, I never expected this to happen. I was always the unattached drifter. I would blow through town and pick up any chick who – well I guess you know about that too. Anyway. Basically, hunting and dating don’t mix. Settling down with someone was never on the table.

But somehow, against all odds, now it is.

It took me a long time to realise that I – that Cas and I could have something together. Turns out good things do happen after all. Not that it is always easy, but Cas gets me in a way that no one else does. He has seen me at my worst, and he makes me want to be my best. He saved me when I didn’t think I deserved to be saved, and every day he tries to convince me that I deserve to be loved. I don’t know if it’s true, but when I’m with him… I believe it. Because he loves me.

Cas loves me.

I’m not sure if that’s allowed. I mean, he’s an angel, and from what I’ve seen emotions aren’t really a thing with those guys. They didn’t react all that well when Cas became ‘too close to the humans in his charge’ either. But, I don’t know. When he died, you brought him back. Not just once or twice, but three times. He was dead and I thought I had lost him forever but you gave him back to me. I gotta believe that means something. Like maybe this is what you wanted for us all along.

Which is why I’m daring to hope that you’ll say yes.

God – Chuck – sir? Your son is the best thing that has ever happened to me. And tonight, I want to ask your permission to marry him.

I’m planning to pop the question tomorrow over dinner. We’re going out for burgers. They make him happy. I think that maybe I could make him happy. I mean, I don’t pretend to be any good at this relationship stuff, but I’d like to give it a try. I think Cas is worth it.

No, scratch that. I know he is.

But I don’t want to do this if it is going to put him on the outs with his dad.

So may I have your blessing?”

Dean dared to open his eyes. Chuck hadn’t materialised in front of him and there was no booming voice from the heavens, but as he watched in stunned amazement, the stars in the night sky above began to move.

They spelled out three words.

‘About damn time.’

Dean’s cheeks tinged red. “I’ll take that as a yes. Thanks, Chuck.”


	41. 4 Letter Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> According to Dean, love is a four letter word

It was a quiet morning. Sam had woken up early to go for a run, and Cas had just wandered into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, lured in by the scent of breakfast cooking.

 

“Hey there, sleepy head,” Dean said with a smile.

 

Cas raised a hand to his hair and scrunched his nose at the tangled mess he found.

 

Dean chuckled as he slid bacon from the frying pan onto two plates. “You should see Sammy’s hair first thing. One time it covered his entire face and he tripped over twice on his way to the bathroom to fix it. I offered to cut it for him and save him the hassle, but he didn’t go for the idea...”

 

Cas made a futile effort to get his hair into order, then huffed a sigh and dropped into a chair at the table.

 

The toaster popped. Dean made quick work of buttering the slices and then scooped scrambled eggs on top before bringing the plates over.

 

“Tousled hair is sexy, you know,” Dean offered. Cas raised his eyebrows at him, eliciting another laugh.  “Here, let me.” Dean set the plates down and then combed his fingers through Castiel’s hair, gently removing the knots before scrunching it back into a look that he insisted was ‘stylish’.

 

Cas wasn’t complaining. He hummed happily at the attention, a small smile lighting his features.

 

Dean caught the expression and his cheeks tinged pink. “I forgot the coffee,” he said, hurrying back to the counter.

 

Cas curled his hand around the warm mug that Dean passed to him. “Thank you, Dean.”

 

Dean nodded around a mouthful of eggs. “Any time.”

 

They ate in companionable silence for a while. The domesticity of the moment was not lost on Castiel, who couldn’t quite believe that this was his life now. It had begun with a single word, when Cas had lost his Grace for good and felt helplessly human, fearing he was not welcome here but not knowing where else to go. Dean had asked him to stay, and Cas had.

 

A few nights later, Cas had suffered from a terrible nightmare. Dean had burst into his room, and Cas had been sure that he was there to tell Cas that he couldn’t live with them after all. Instead, Dean had pulled him into a rough hug and held on tight until Cas stopped shaking. That night, it was Castiel’s turn to ask Dean to stay, and he did.

 

Slowly but surely, everything had changed between them. Cas wasn’t sure how to explain the phenomenon. Even after observing humans for millennia, and becoming one himself, he didn’t feel confident to interpret what he was thinking and feeling.

 

But he thought that maybe there was a word to encapsulate the depth of emotion he felt for Dean. And suddenly, Cas wanted to tell him.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean looked up from his meal. “Hm?”

 

Cas swallowed, working up his nerve. “Dean, I love-”

 

“Bacon!” Dean interrupted. There was an odd pitch to his voice and the tips of his ears were heated. “Me too. Bacon is good.” He shoved a whole piece into his mouth as if to prove his point.

 

Cas frowned. “No, Dean-”

 

Dean’s eyes widened. “You don’t like bacon? Everyone likes bacon. Is it my cooking? Are you saying you don’t like-”

 

“Dean!”

 

The stream of words cut off.

 

“Bacon is good,” Cas said, slow and deliberate. “And you cook very well. But that isn’t what I was going to say. I wanted to tell you that I-”

 

“Don’t.” Dean’s expression was twisted, like he was in physical pain. “Don’t say it.”

 

“But Dean, you don’t know what I-”

 

“No. I know. I know what you’re thinking, I know what you’re going to say, but I’m asking you not to.”

 

Cas felt an ache deep in his chest. He tried not to let the hurt show on his face. “Why? Do you… do you not feel the same?”

 

Dean pushed his chair back from the table, abandoning an entire rind of bacon so he could put distance between them. “No, that’s not- Everything is good right now. We’re good. Things are – different – but they’re good. I don’t want to lose – this – what we have. It took us so long to get here, and if we start – talking – trying to say things like – we’re going to screw it up. I’m going to screw it up. So can we just… not?”

 

Cas struggled to make sense of what Dean was saying. “I don’t understand. It’s just a word, Dean. Humans use it all the time to express how they feel for one another. It took me a while to determine if it was the right word to use, but I’m sure now, and I want you to know that I-”

 

“No! Cas, please. Don’t say it.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because it’s not just a word. It’s a four-letter-word that could destroy everything. Trust me, we’re better off letting it go unsaid.”

 

“Dean, what do you think is going to happen?”

 

Dean shrugged and looked away. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his dressing gown, betraying his anxiety.

 

Cas drew in a breath, forcing himself to slow down and think this through.

 

“I’m not going to leave,” he said finally.

 

Dean’s head snapped up.

 

“You asked me to stay, remember? Whether you let me say it or not, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Dean’s shoulders were tense, suggesting that Cas was close to understanding the root of Dean’s reticence.

 

“Dean, the world isn’t going to end if we say how we feel. We’re allowed to be happy.”

 

“The world is always ending,” Dean mumbled.

 

Cas circled the table and took Dean’s hand. “And we always save it.”

 

Dean reluctantly met his gaze. “Cas… I wish we could say that word and then live happily ever after, but my life isn’t a fairy tale. Most days, it’s a horror story and I can’t pretend to offer you more than that.”

 

“Dean, all I want is you. I’m not asking for anything else.”

 

“What if I can’t ever say that word to you?”

 

Cas considered that for a moment. “As long as we’re together, it doesn’t really matter. It’s just a word. You don’t have to say it to mean it.”

 

Dean looked down at their joined hands and squeezed gently. He didn’t say anything, but Cas didn’t need him to.


End file.
